Mind Over Matter
by Dr. Dredd
Summary: John starts to exhibit telekinetic abilities after returning through the time dilation portal. Takes place between Epiphany and Critical Mass, spoilers for Epiphany and Condemned. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

The trip through the portal wasn't as painful this time, but John still stumbled as he reached the other side of the time dilation field. He cursed under his breath, hoping no one had noticed it. No such luck, though. Carson's hand landed gently but firmly on his shoulder. "Are you all right, son?"

"I'm fine," John replied automatically. He ignored the physician's skeptical expression and Elizabeth's raised eyebrows. He just wanted to get the hell out of here and back to Atlantis. He needed time to absorb all that had happened.

John was the first one to board the puddlejumper. For once he didn't mind that someone else was piloting it. He was tired and no doubt out of practice. John stared out the forward window as the craft lifted through the atmosphere. Had it really been only a few hours on this end? It had been so much longer for him, and he felt... old.

Teer's people had been kind and welcoming, and he certainly appreciated Hedda's healing gift, but it had been like living with children for six months. He couldn't understand how they could be content to spend their whole lives in their Cloister, not even remotely curious about what might exist beyond its confines. Trying to explain the necessity for living and fighting felt like banging his head against a brick wall. If that's what it took to Ascend, he'd never be ready in a million years.

John fidgeted in his seat as the jumper approached the Stargate, aware of the others surreptitiously watching him. Vanquishing the beast had been too simple and abrupt. He was still full of adrenalin that now had no outlet. Maybe he could convince Teyla to spar with him later; getting the crap beaten out of him might settle his nerves.

A few minutes later they landed in the jumper bay. John didn't even try to convince Carson to let him go shave before heading to the infirmary. The man was eyeing him too closely for that. John knew he could look forward to almost every medical test currently known to man and a few that were dreamed up on the spot. He wasn't the only one on the receiving end of the Scot's glare, though.

"Just where do the two of you think you're going?" the physician asked as Teyla and Ronon headed out of the jumper bay. "That... thing threw you around as easily as rag dolls. You need to get checked out." John gave Carson credit for not being intimidated by Ronon's looming over him menacingly. He merely pursed his lips and pointed in the direction of the infirmary. Ronon proceeded to stomp out, followed more gracefully by Teyla.

Carson put his hand on John's shoulder again and guided him out of the jumper bay. As he did, he leaned over and whispered to Rodney, "We'll discuss your faith in my piloting skills later." John smirked to himself at that; he'd missed the snark.

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He wasn't smirking several hours later, though. In fact, he was almost ready to go back through the time dilation field to get away from anything medical. "Are we done yet?" he yelled from an infirmary bed.

Carson didn't even bother to look up from the microscope he was bent over. "In the five minutes since you last asked, no!" John flopped back down on the bed and grumbled something under his breath. "Excuse me? I don't think I heard that, you cheeky little..."

"Never mind!" John would never admit it, of course, but despite Hedda's gift he'd rather have the Scot as a doctor. He wondered what the man would think of his pint-sized competition.

The physician relented a bit. "We're almost finished. I'm just waiting for the results of the last round of blood tests."

"I know. Sorry, I'm just..."

"Cranky? Crabby? A pain in the ass?" John looked over to see Carson smiling at him with something like affection. "You weren't gone that long on our end, but we were worried about you. Rodney was almost frantic."

"I bet," John said softly. Despite the difficulties, their friendship had persisted over the last few months.

Seeing that John was about to become lost in his thoughts, Carson changed the subject. "Can you tell me anything else about the people who Ascended?"

John shrugged. "Not much more to tell, Doc. They let themselves get trapped by their own fear." Suddenly he felt restless again, so he stood up and stretched. At the same time, a nurse walked over to Carson and handed him a slip of paper. The physician nodded.

"All right, you can get dressed now. You're free to go, but I want you back here if you feel in any way out of the ordinary." To emphasize his words, he fixed John with a frank, blue-eyed stare.

"You bet. Finally!" John ducked behind a privacy curtain to change out of his scrubs. Maybe it wouldn't be too late to find Teyla after all.

"Did that little girl really have the power to heal?" Carson asked suddenly. He sounded wistful. "I'd dearly love to be able to do something like that."

"I know." Carson took the deaths of patients under his care personally. He often pushed himself to his limits and beyond to try to prevent them from happening. "I wish you could, too. Teer said that many of her people had developed special abilities like that. Something about being on the path to Ascension."

John shook his head. Meditation, contemplation, crazy Jedi mind powers. He wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't spent six months immersed in it. Hedda could heal with a touch, Teer could read his mind; heck, Teer's mother could move objects with a thought. How bizarre was that? Imagine looking at that pen on the counter and willing it to... move?

The pen did NOT just wobble. It didn't.

Did it?

John knew he was tired and restless. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? Or did the pen obey a mental command? He had temporarily been on the path to Ascension, albeit unwillingly. And how different was this from technology that responded to his thoughts?

One thing was for sure. He was not going to mention this to anyone. They'd think he was nuts. Carson would never let him out of the infirmary again, and he'd probably wind up with Heightmeyer as a constant companion. No thanks.

John finished dressing and stepped out from behind the curtain. "Don't worry, doc," he said to Carson. "You do pretty well even without that ability." With that, he walked out of the infirmary and back towards his quarters. By the time he reached them he'd decided not to attempt to learn if he'd actually made the pen move. He'd rather have it be a mystery.

And maybe one day he'd be ready to consider Ascension.


	2. Chapter 2

It took John the better part of an hour to go from the infirmary to his quarters. He remembered the way, but the halls of the city somehow seemed different now. He looked out a lot of windows and stared at a lot of tiny details before getting to his destination.

His quarters also seemed strange to him. The guitar was hanging on the wall, but John knew his fingers would be stiff and clumsy if he tried to play it. The Johnny Cash poster on the wall felt trivial, since he had literally just spent months thinking about life, death, free will, and being willing to face one's fears.

John went into the bathroom and turned the shower on. Using his gene, he raised the water temperature until steam billowed from the shower stall. He sighed and closed his eyes, enjoying the sound of running water after so long. Then he went to the sink, reached for his razor, and got to work.

He hadn't forgotten what happened in the infirmary, though. Every time John thought he saw something move out of the corner of his eye, he jumped. The whole Ascension thing and anything associated with it was creeping him out big time.

John eventually stepped out of the bathroom, now clean and beardless. He debated whether to go to the mess hall for dinner, then decided to skip it. He wasn't that hungry and didn't want to face any questions tonight, no matter how well-meaning. He slid into bed and closed his eyes, hoping that Beckett didn't notice his absence.

He was tired, but sleep still eluded John for awhile. When he was in the Cloister, the night had been filled with the sounds of insects and small animals. His hut was never truly silent. Here, there was nothing other than the sound of air gently moving through the ventilation ducts. It would take some getting used to.

John suspected that a lot of other things would, too.

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Rodney was also having a hard time calming down after the mission. He had been too jittery to go to the infirmary for his post-mission check, so he stayed out of sight and hoped Carson wouldn't figure it out. It worked for a few hours, then the physician had called Rodney on the radio and ordered him in no uncertain terms to get down to the infirmary. The usual argument started shortly after he arrived, complete with Scottish swearing and snide remarks about fake medical diplomas. Rodney had enjoyed it, but it wasn't enough to distract him.

They'd almost lost John again, and again it would have been his fault. Rodney pushed aside Elizabeth's comment that John shouldn't have rushed ahead. He was the scientist, so he should have done a better job of making sure it was safe before anyone waltzed through the portal. Ronon hadn't even tried to hide his disgust, at first threatening to throw him through after John and then barking questions at him in a constant barrage. Rodney had again taken refuge in snarky comments, this time about evolution, but again it wasn't enough to distract him from his fear for his friend.

The siege had been the last time anyone had trusted him unreservedly, Rodney thought as he worked alone in his lab. It was well after midnight, but still he lingered, unwilling to return to the quiet of his quarters. There was a constant background hum here, and that suited him just fine.

No, the unconditional trust was no longer there. First he had been mocked and left to hang from a tree on P3M-736. Next, on the convict planet, everyone assumed he was withholding information to make himself look better. Then there was the fiasco that was Duranda. After that, John didn't even bother to pretend he valued Rodney as a team member. When they were searching for Ellia, he'd foisted him on Carson, who hadn't been thrilled either, and he'd made only a token protest when Ford insisted that Rodney remain behind on the Hive ship mission. The enzyme overdose and today's negligence were just two more items on a slowly growing list.

Rodney knew that he had brought some of this on himself, mainly during the incident on Duranda. But he was at a loss to explain why things had started to go wrong even earlier than that. Questions kept running through his mind, and he was finding it difficult to sleep.

For most of his life, Rodney had never trusted anyone. He always figured that he couldn't rely on anyone besides himself, and he usually wasn't disappointed. This changed when he became a part of the Atlantis expedition, and he'd gotten used to being part of a team. Now he tried to pretend that he didn't care what anyone else thought, but it wasn't working. He'd let people through his defenses, and there was no going back.

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John felt no better the next morning. The day/night cycle had been different in the Cloister, so he'd ended up sleeping longer than usual. He hated the grogginess it left him with, so he decided to go for a run before breakfast. Finally he could feel some of his tension drain away. Bolstered by that, he headed to the mess hall after a quick shower.

Ugh. He had not missed the food. The meals served in the Cloister had been simple but tasty, in contrast to the fare served here. The men and women who cooked attempted to mask unfamiliar flavors by drowning them with spices, and the results were often unpalatable. Rodney, of course, had no problems, but that didn't come as a surprise.

John picked out the least unappetizing things he could find and looked around for a table. He saw Elizabeth eating by herself near the door and headed over. She looked up as he sat down across from her. "This is a pleasant surprise," she said. "Usually you just grab something and eat it on the run."

He shrugged. "After six months away from home, I figured I'd earned a leisurely breakfast."

Elizabeth smiled. "Even though not quite as much time has passed here, I agree with you." She looked at him closely. "I don't see any new gray hairs," she teased.

John snorted. "No, just the ones from the Wraith, Ford, and almost being turned into a bug. That's plenty."

"Yeah..." They ate in silence for a few minutes. "Tell me how you're really doing," she finally said. "Not what you told Carson, but the truth."

"Are you calling me a liar?" he asked with mock indignation, attempting to change the subject. wz

Elizabeth wasn't buying it. "I'm serious, John."

John put down his fork. "I know you are. Honestly, I don't know what I feel. From my point of view, it's been a long time since I sat in this room. From yours, I had breakfast in here yesterday! I need to get used to that. It's like dealing with the ultimate case of jet lag."

John sighed and ran a hand through his unruly hair. He reached for his fork, and that's when it happened again. This time it definitely wasn't his eyes playing tricks on him. The fork moved by itself.


	3. Chapter 3

John's heart started to race and he had an overwhelming desire to run out of the mess hall. Had Elizabeth seen that? He decided not to stick around to find out. Standing up suddenly, he pretended to have remembered something important. "Crap! Elizabeth, I forgot that Rodney wanted to talk to me this morning about any technology I might have seen. Sorry, but I'm going to have to eat and run." John grabbed a roll from his tray and deposited the rest of the stuff in the disposal area. He plastered a cocky grin on his face and hurried out, leaving Elizabeth to look after him quizzically.

He didn't stop until he was well out of sight of the mess hall. Then John leaned against the wall of an empty corridor and closed his eyes. He felt the roll crumble into dust in his hand. "There's got to be a perfectly logical explanation for this," he thought. "Maybe it's the time dilation field. It... magnetized me or something like that."

John knew how ridiculous that sounded and could imagine Rodney's scorn on hearing that particular theory. On the other hand, Rodney might have some insight into what was going on, so he began to wander toward the lab. If nothing else, he could amuse himself by tormenting the scientist. It had been a long time since he'd done that.

Some of the people John met along the way smiled and nodded, but most were too absorbed in their own thoughts or conversations to even notice him. John had to keep reminding himself that most of them didn't know he'd even been offworld, never mind that six months had gone by for him beyond the portal. He gritted his teeth and acknowledged the greetings he did receive, trying to get past his feelings of abandonment.

Dr. Zelenka was the first person John met on arriving in the lab. The Czech engineer's hair was standing on end and smoke was rising from one sleeve of his jacket. He was aiming a poisonous glare at a short, familiar-looking man in a lab coat. John raised an eyebrow. "New look for you, Dr. Z?"

Zelenka turned his glare on John and the little guy took the opportunity to slink away. "Where do you Americans find people like this? He's bad enough, but even the other so-called scientists in this department could only have received their degrees by bribing or sleeping with someone..."

John grinned as Zelenka continued to carry on. "You sound more and more like Rodney every day. I missed this."

Zelenka stopped mid-rant. "Ah, yes. I forgot. Welcome back, Colonel. How are you doing? Have you recovered from your... ordeal?"

John barely had a chance to open his mouth before Rodney broke in with a snide remark. "Ordeal? If that was an ordeal, then the Wraith have suddenly become vegetarians!"

John frowned. He hadn't even heard the other man come in, further proving that he was off his game. "Rodney," he drawled warningly.

"What? I'm just saying that you didn't seem to be in distress when we found you!"

John wasn't fooled by Rodney's acerbic tone. He'd seen the profound relief in his friend's eyes when they met in the meadow. However, he still wasn't about to let Rodney bust his chops. "I thought I was going to be stuck forever with people who contemplated their navels for a living. That was pretty damn distressing."

Zelenka snickered.

Seeing that he was probably fighting a losing battle, Rodney rolled his eyes and waved his hands in a "get on with it" motion. "While I'm sure we could go on all day about the pros and cons of being stuck with beautiful women, you must have had a reason for gracing us with your presence."

John snorted. "You're the one who interrupted me. Anyway, I wanted to ask if there are any possible long-term effects of passing through a time dilation field like we did."

"Long-term effects as in your crazy hair going prematurely gray, or long-term effects such as dying a horrible death when all the parts of your body start aging at vastly different rates? You have to be a little more specific about what you want to know."

John grimaced at the picture his mind conjured up. "Thanks, Rodney. That was very... intense imagery."

Zelenka took off his glasses and tapped an earpiece on his chin. "Colonel has interesting point. He was in there the longest -- who knows what that could do? And didn't you say that you tried to pull him out? The rate of progression across temporal field threshold would not have been constant..."

Rodney interrupted. "Radek, we talked about this already. The tidal forces would have a negligible effect on something as small as Colonel Sheppard..."

"Hey!"

Rodney ignored him and plowed on. "As for being inside the field itself, once you cross the threshold the environment's no different than here."

John tried and failed to break the flow of the technobabble.

"How can the environment not be different?" Zelenka protested. "Time passes much faster in there!"

"Only relative to an observer on the outside. The person inside wouldn't notice anything out of the ordinary..."

"Guys!" yelled John. "Way too much information. So I'm guessing that we don't actually know what the long-term effects might be."

Zelenka shrugged. "Carson might be a better person to ask, anyway."

"No!" John exclaimed. He wasn't going near the doctor again for awhile.

Rodney was eyeing John suspiciously. "Are you asking out of idle curiosity, or is something wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong," John said quickly. Perhaps too quickly, since Rodney did not seem mollified. He hesitated, not knowing how to explain his sudden interest. "Just something Teer said." As he'd hoped, Rodney took the bait and started to snark about Captain Kirk and his reputation with the ladies. John played along for a bit, then found an excuse to slip away. He didn't notice the worried expression on Rodney's face as he walked out the door.

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"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Elizabeth asked. She'd become remarkably overprotective of the Ancient database after they were almost forced to destroy it.

Rodney exhaled loudly. "No, Elizabeth, I'm not at all sure that it is. But I do know that we absolutely have to perform maintenance on the database. We're going to lose files if we don't."

"Explain to me one more time why that's the case."

Rodney stood up and began to pace around her office. "Think of it like your laptop. The more files you cram into memory, the more they get fragmented and the slower the whole thing becomes until it crashes. Multiply the number of files on your own hard drive by a factor of ten and consider that they are irreplaceable, and you'll have a better idea of what we're dealing with."

"But shutting down so many systems..."

"We need to shut them down in order to make sure that the Ancient files are reintegrated seamlessly. It won't be for that long, and everything will come back online automatically after the maintenance is complete."

Rodney watched as Elizabeth considered this. Finally she asked with a sigh, "What functions are we going to lose?"

"Many of the important ones," he admitted. "Long range sensors will go down, and so will most of the transporters. Stargate operations won't be affected, though, and neither will life support."

Elizabeth sat back and looked at her chief scientist, one corner of her mouth quirking up in wry amusement. "Dr. McKay, why do I get the feeling that you're saving the worst for last?"

"Because I am," he said bluntly. "The self-destruct is going to be compromised."

She was confused. "That doesn't sound so bad. I doubt we'll need to blow up the city in the short time you say this is going to take."

Rodney shook his head. "That isn't it. We'll be able to use the self-destruct -- the naquadah generators can still be overloaded manually. We just won't have any computer control over it. No security override, and no abort function."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

"Okay, you win," Elizabeth said. "That's bad. When does all of this get to happen?"

"Not for a few days," Rodney assured her. "We still have to finish writing some of the subroutines. Whatshisname -- the guy who replaced Grodin -- is taking the lead on that."

Her lips tightened, but she said only, "Very well. When everything's ready, I want you to brief Colonel Sheppard and Sergeant Bates."

Rodney hesitated, then nodded once. "I know, Lizbeth," he said softly. "I miss him, too."

As he turned to leave, Elizabeth stopped him. "What did you want to see Sheppard about, earlier?"

"Excuse me?"

"This morning. He left the mess hall quite abruptly this morning and said that you wanted to talk to him about something."

Rodney was confused. "Really? I saw Sheppard this morning, but he actually came to ask me a question. Wanted to know if there were any possible long-term side effects of being caught in a time dilation field."

Elizabeth looked at him sharply. "Is he okay?" She reached up a hand as if to tap her earpiece. "Is this something Dr. Beckett needs to know about?"

Rodney shook his head quickly, remembering his friend's reaction to Radek's innocent comment. Anyway, John hadn't actually mentioned any current problems, just asked about possible future ones. "I don't think so. He looked fine. But I can try to find out a little more."

"Do that. And thanks, Rodney."

"Not a problem."

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_Crack!_

_beat, beat, crack!_

_THWACK!_

"Ow!" John yelped and rubbed his arm where Teyla's stick had hit. Then he shook his hand a few times to get rid of the pins and needles caused by the blow.

"Colonel? Are you all right?" Teyla asked, her head tilted to the side in an expression of concern.

"Fine, fine," he said with false cheer. "Just a little out of practice." He forced himself to grin casually. "But I've been living cleanly these last few months. Give me a few days and I'll be winning easily!"

Teyla nodded slowly. "Very well, if you're sure." She twirled one of her sticks and relaxed into a fighting stance. "Ready?"

John copied her motions. "Ready," he agreed.

The two stood still for another second, sizing each other up. Then John exploded into motion, lunging forward with his right-hand stick. She parried it easily and aimed for his upper back. At the last possible moment, he whirled and smacked her stick with his own.

_Crack!_

"Very good," said Teyla as they circled each other. "It's nice to see that your months of... clean living have not caused you to regress too much." Even before she finished speaking, she pressed her attack again. John had to jump back, and her stick sliced through the spot where he had been an instant before.

Unbidden, he thought of his two very unsuccessful attempts to fight the Beast. He doubted anything could have helped him with that, even a tutorial with Ronon. From there, John's thoughts jumped to Hedda and Teer. Teer had been a wonderful lover and a good friend. He'd genuinely liked Hedda and always had a smile for the little girl. She had seemed to accept her gift without much concern that it should have been a physical impossibility. He, on the other hand...

_Smack!_

John suspected that Teyla had pulled her blow, but the force of it still sent him reeling. "Damn."

Teyla put down her sticks and reached out a hand to steady him. "I think that's enough for today," she told him firmly. John ruefully agreed.

"I'm having a little trouble concentrating," he admitted.

"You feel adrift," she observed. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah..." John let his voice trail off. Adrift was a good way to put it. In more ways than one, too. He hated not understanding what was going through his own head. He liked his emotions simple and easy to deal with. And none of this crazy mind powers crap!

"What was it like for you when you finally found out that your ability to sense the Wraith was actually a way to tap into their telepathic network?" he surprised himself by asking.

If Teyla was upset by the question, she didn't let it show. "I felt many things," she said. "Mostly I was relieved, though."

"Really?"

"Oh, I was scared, too. Your Sergeant Bates made sure of that. But at last I knew why I was different. And once I started to learn to control my gift... it was as if a constant buzzing in the back of my head had finally stopped." Teyla grinned. "Although I was not happy when you sent me to Dr. Heightmeyer, she was right when she said that the more we know about something, the more we feel in control." The Athosian stopped smiling as a sudden thought occurred to her. "Can you sense the Wraith, too? Is that why you are asking?"

"No, no, nothing like that," John responded with what he hoped was nonchalance. How was he going to answer her question? "It's just... I can't explain it," he lied. "The last six months have just made me feel... weird."

"Perhaps you also should seek out Dr. Heightmeyer."

"Maybe," John answered, although he had absolutely no intention of doing so.

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Nothing unusual happened for the rest of the day. Still, when John returned to his quarters for the night, he knew he had to at least try to learn more about this thing. Despite his show of concern about the time dilation field, he suspected it had to do with hanging around folks who were trying to Ascend.

He started by looking through the Ancient database, which wasn't particularly helpful. It made mention of healing talents, but not in the context of Ascension. Seemed like those were just another genetic characteristic. And there was nothing about gifts of mindreading or telekinetic abilities.

John next looked for information about Ascension itself. There was much more information about that, but it didn't make a whole lot of sense. A lot of "follow the path" drivel, but not much else. In desperation, he even tried searching for mention of time dilation fields, but the resulting mass of data on temporal theory made his head ache. He knew it probably wasn't that, anyway.

Fine. He'd have to learn about the phenomenon the old-fashioned way, by trial and error. John found a pencil, put it on a table, and sat down on the couch in front of it. "_Move_," he thought tentatively.

Nothing.

He tried again. "_Move... please?_"

Still nothing.

Visualizing the pencil in motion didn't work, nor did imagining an invisible hand pushing it along. When even a mental "_Get the fuck off my table,_" failed to produce any effect, John started to relax. Obviously what had happened before was a fluke, and he sighed in relief.

The chime on his door rang, and John used his gene to open it. Rodney walked in, looking somewhat ill at ease. "Sheppard. How's it going?" he asked with false casualness. Apparently he suspected something was up.

John smiled and started to explain what he was doing, since he no longer feared any weirdness. He waved one hand at the pencil. "I was just..." His voice trailed off when he noticed the look on Rodney's face. Turning slightly, John saw the pencil floating in mid-air.

Shit.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

"John?"

"Yes, Rodney?"

"That pencil is hanging in mid-air."

Behind him, John heard the pencil clatter to the floor. "No, it isn't," he said pleasantly.

"Now it's on the floor," said Rodney in a voice that suggested he was questioning his own sanity.

John couldn't resist the cocky grin that quirked up one corner of his mouth. "And you call me the master of the blatantly obvious."

Rodney scowled and crossed his arms over his chest in a familiar gesture. "And how long have you had this particular skill?" he demanded.

"How do you know it's me?" John protested.

"The minute you turn your attention away from it, the pencil falls. Who else could it be? Chaya?"

"Cute, Rodney." Then he gave up trying to deny it. "Jeez, I don't even believe in this sort of thing! I mean, I like the Star Wars trilogy as much as the next guy... well, the first trilogy anyway. The second one sucked. Lucas can't write dialogue for crap..."

Rodney interrupted. "You're stalling. Won't work."

John sighed. "Doesn't this defy the laws of physics or something? Newton's second law?"

The Canadian was unimpressed. "Oh, good. You paid attention during your 'Physics for Poets' class. Nice try, but no. You need to think in terms of quantum physics rather than classical physics."

"I don't want to think about it at all!"

Rodney shrugged. "It was a gross oversimplification, anyway. My point is that telekinesis isn't impossible. We've seen it before." At John's raised eyebrow, he continued. "It's from SG-1's mission reports. Cassandra Frasier, daughter of the SGC's late CMO. She was experimented on by a Goa'uld."

"Goa'uld?"

"Never mind. The kid had her DNA manipulated, and when she hit puberty she started shorting out electrical appliances and playing 'hands-free' chess."

"Hello, I'm a little past puberty!" John practically yelled.

"Not according to your recent track record with Ascended women," Rodney smirked back. "This started right after we got home, didn't it? That's why you wanted to know what the time dilation field could do to you."

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Could exposure to the time dilation field have done this to me?" John sounded both exasperated and a little nervous.

"I have absolutely no idea." Rodney grabbed John's arm and started pulling him towards the door.

"Um. Where are we going?" John asked the question mildly enough, but there was an edge to his voice.

"Our sheep-shearing colleague in the infirmary would probably be better able to answer your question than I would. His vast collection of useless facts may include something that could shed some light on your situation."

John dug in his heels. "Are you kidding? Carson already sent me a memo discussing new testing for "space STDs." I don't want the man getting any other ideas! Especially since he hasn't cleared me for active duty yet."

Rodney started laughing. "Space STDs?" he chortled. "Oh, that's really good. Admit it, you brought it on yourself."

John smiled sweetly. "First of all, it's for all of us, not just me. Secondly, do you know how they test for STDs? They take a little swab and stick it..."

"Aaagh, stop! That's leaving me with an image of your depraved past that I never want to think about again." Rodney looked like he was about to shudder. "Fine, you don't want to see Carson. I get it. But we need to learn something about this new ability of yours. I'll figure something out."

"Oh, you will, huh?" John wasn't sure he wanted Rodney to get excited about this. Even before Duranda, an enthusiastic Rodney usually led to something blowing up and/or someone getting hurt in an inventive way. Unfortunately, John didn't think he had a choice. He didn't think for a minute that the astrophysicist had come down here on his own initiative. Someone had sent him to check up -- Elizabeth or Carson. Heck, it could have even been Ronon. The ex-Runner was developing annoyingly overprotective tendencies. Regardless of who it was, though, any refusal on John's part would only lead to threats and coercion.

From the triumphant grin on his face, John knew that Rodney had guessed what he was thinking. "Fine," he grumbled. "But the first time you electrocute me, I'm leaving." He rather hoped that Rodney would be leaving now. His head was starting to hurt.

"Relax, you big baby. You'll be fine." Rodney walked to the door, then stopped and shook his head. "Your Captain Kirk routine is really coming back to bite you in the ass… um, so to speak." As the door closed behind him, the pencil smacked into it.

"Stop doing that!" John yelled.

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John still had a throbbing headache the next morning. When he arrived at the scheduled briefing, the sight of Sergeant Bates didn't make it any better. Instead of mellowing after his life-threatening injuries, the man had become even more of a stickler. John was out of practice after six months and didn't feel like butting heads today.

There were only two seats left at the table, one at the end next to Carson and the other between Teyla and Major Lorne. John hesitated, then took the latter. They would be less likely to notice or comment if he gave away any signs of his headache. Hopefully, though, it would soon become a moot point when the illicit Tylenol he had taken kicked in. Infirmary rules prevented anyone from keeping private medication supplies -- Beckett and his staff wanted to know about any symptoms that could potentially signal an outbreak -- but John had swiped a bottle during his long convalescence from the retrovirus. Bottom line: he didn't want anything preventing him from being cleared for active duty. He was just itching to fly again.

As usual, Rodney was several minutes late. John hid a grin as the scientist rushed into the room, trying to balance a stack of papers, his laptop, and a cup of coffee without dropping anything. Elizabeth also tried not to smile, and even Ronon looked amused. "Good morning, Dr. McKay," Elizabeth said as Rodney breathlessly slid into the seat next to Carson. Rodney flushed, started to cover it with bluster, then settled for just shrugging. "All right, let's get started. First of all, I'm glad to say that we all returned from our recent mission none the worse for wear."

"Aye," Carson chimed in. "Naught but minor trauma from fighting with the beastie. I'll even be clearin' the Colonel soon, unless I find that he's hiding something from me again." He fixed John with a reproachful stare, which was returned with an innocent smile.

The physician snorted. "A paragon of good behavior," he muttered.

Elizabeth jumped in and played diplomat. "Thank you, Carson. Major Lorne, anything to make us aware of while Colonel Sheppard is waiting to return to work?"

"No, ma'am!" Lorne said crisply. "Nothing new to report." Elizabeth thanked him, too, and proceeded to the next person. Predictably, everything seemed routine until they got to Rodney.

"You want to do what!" John yelped.

"It's no big deal!" Rodney protested. "We need to maintain the database, and this is the only way to do it without an unacceptable risk to its integrity." Elizabeth didn't look surprised, so John figured Rodney must have given her the explanation earlier.

"I don't like it," Bates said bluntly.

"No, of course not," Rodney retorted.

Bates continued as if the interruption hadn't happened. "The loss of the security systems will mean placing guards at points of vulnerability. We'll have to cover the ZPM, the naquadah generators, the armory, and the control room. That alone is going to take a significant amount of manpower. If we want to cover secondary sites such as food storage, water purification, and the viral labs, then we'll be overextended. With short- and long-range sensors down, that's just asking for trouble."

Carson looked uncomfortable at the mention of his retrovirus work. Elizabeth also frowned, but for a different reason. "It's only going to be for a few hours, according to Dr. McKay's estimates. Is all of this really necessary?"

"Yes, ma'am. Leaving any of those areas unprotected, no matter for how long, presents a risk." Bates glared at a familiar target of his hostility. "Even without most of the Athosians, there are too many new people whose intentions are unknown."

Teyla bristled and gave a low growl of disgust. Exasperated, John said, "Sergeant, most of the people you're talking about are military personnel who came on the Daedalus! If there were a conspiracy to destroy the city -- and there'd have to be one for any coordinated plan to work -- don't you think we'd have some inkling of it? Landry's intelligence is pretty good."

"Maybe, maybe not," answered Bates. "Besides, no offense to Dr. McKay, but things don't always go smoothly when Ancient technology is involved."

"I beg your pardon! I know exactly what I'm doing!" Rodney's face started to turn red.

"I'm not saying you don't," Bates responded, although his expression indicated otherwise. "But you yourself have seen stuff not work when you think it's going to. How about an electromagnetic shield on M7G-677? Or a jumper that got lodged in a Stargate after only moderate weapons fire?"

"Especially now, we are never going to mention that again." John thought he said it softly enough, but Rodney raised an eyebrow and Carson gave him a rueful smile.

Elizabeth had been looking back and forth at the speakers, but now she interrupted firmly. "Dr. McKay has convinced me of the need to do the database repairs. So what we need to do is figure out a way to do it with minimal risk and maximal preservation of daily routine."

"I'd at least suspend gate travel," suggested John.

Teyla spoke up. "Do not forget the trading mission a few of my people were going to carry out. Halling will be disappointed if we cannot go, and I believe we need the produce and seeds the Cereans can offer. They also have a beverage similar to the coffee that Dr. McKay likes so much."

No one could argue against that. The discussion continued for awhile longer, then Elizabeth requested that Bates and John submit a formal list of recommendations. "Unless anyone has anything else to report, I think we're done."

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"Colonel!"

John winced as Rodney's voice caused his head to throb viciously. The headache, which had subsided somewhat during the briefing, returned with a vengeance when he got up to leave. Unfortunately, it appeared that Rodney was not going to forget their conversation of the day before.

John slowed his pace to allow the physicist to fall into step with him. "I thought of something after I left last night, so I went to the lab to set it up... hey, are you okay?"

"Yes, Rodney, I'm fine."

Rodney snorted. "Is that fine as in 'I'm feeling quite well, thank you,' or fine as in 'I'm lying my ass off and hoping you don't notice'?"

John smiled faintly. "If one of the options involves lying my ass off, what makes you think I'll be telling the truth now?" He held up a hand to forestall the inevitable outburst. "I have a bit of a headache, but it's no big deal."

"You sure?" Rodney waved his own hands around. "I'd hate to be responsible for ruining any brain cells."

"McKay!"

"All right, all right," Rodney led John into one of the labs that John had assumed was empty. He looked dubiously at a mess of equipment and wires that covered one entire lab bench. Next to it were a dozen small marbles.

"Get into a fight with your interior decorator again?"

"I'm sure someone somewhere would find that funny, Colonel. Keep trying, though. It's not me." Rodney looked at the setup. "Admittedly it looks a bit primitive, but it should help us figure out how you do… whatever it is that you do. So!" he clapped his hands together briskly. "See that metal plate over there on the wall? Fling a marble at it."

John shook his head. "I don't have control of this ability. If I did, you really think I would have let you see a flying pencil?"

"You don't? You said the others did."

"They were trying to Ascend their entire lives. I was only there for six months. And I admit that I… may have let my mind wander during some of the meditation sessions."

"You mean you fell asleep," said Rodney.

"That, and I also ran football plays through my head," John replied, grinning.

"Typical. All right, let's see." Rodney began to pace up and down the length of the lab. "How do I teach someone to use a skill he shouldn't even have?"

"What makes you automatically think you can?"

"Hello, genius, remember?"

"You'll never let me forget it!" John retorted.

"Shut up for a minute," Rodney said suddenly, snapping his fingers rapidly. "How did you learn to fly a puddlejumper?"

John was confused. "You were there. The thing just responded to my thoughts, almost before I even knew I was having them." He firmly shoved aside the memory of a turkey sandwich and an enthusiastic young 2IC.

"But it doesn't respond to every thought you have, right? Otherwise the thing would be going around in circles from contradictory input. So why does it respond to certain thoughts and not others?"

John pondered that for a minute. "Yeah, I think I see what you're getting at. It's like there's one part of my mind that's piloting while the rest does other things. Kinda like... walking and chewing gum at the same time!"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Yes, Professor. Maybe telekinetic functioning works the same way. Now we just have to get you to do it."

Rodney had John sit on a lab stool while the two of them continued to trade insults. During the conversation, John tried several times without success to keep part of his attention focused on countering Rodney's quips and part of it trying to move a marble. Only when he visualized the marble moving as it might appear on a puddlejumper heads-up display did he finally make progress.

"Holy crap," he breathed at the sight of it rolling off the edge of the bench onto the floor. He would have said more, except that a pulse of agony shot through his skull. "OW!" he yelped involuntarily. The pain hadn't been quite this bad before.

"John?" The astrophysicist looked up and his eyes widened. "What's happening?"

John opened his mouth to reply, but instead found himself sliding off the stool. The last thing he heard as the room went dark was Rodney yelling for a medical team.


	6. Chapter 6

At first, John wasn't sure where he was when he woke up. All the signs seemed to point to the infirmary, though. He opened his eyes a crack. Tiled ceiling, check. Uncomfortable mattress, check. Annoyed brogue yelling in some other part of the room... yup, this was definitely the infirmary.

It appeared as if the Scot was just getting warmed up. "Are you daft, man? What the hell were you both thinking, trying something like that by yourselves?"

Oops. He was definitely in trouble this time.

Rodney's irate voice said something in response, but John couldn't make it out. Obviously it displayed a typical lack of tact, though, because a female voice snapped, "Rodney!"

Terrific. Liz was here to get in on the fun, too.

"It wasn't my secret to tell, all right?" Rodney said defensively. "The Colonel didn't want me to say anything, so I didn't."

So much for confidentiality. John wondered if Rodney had snitched on his friends as a kid, too. He must have groaned in protest, because the voices suddenly stopped and purposeful footsteps approached the bed. Time to face the music, then. He opened his eyes all the way and tried to sit up.

"No. Lie still, Colonel." Carson's hand pushed John's shoulder gently back onto the mattress. "How do you feel?" he asked as he pulled out his penlight. There was no trace of the previous irritation in his voice.

"The headache's mostly gone," John said, figuring that anything other than the truth would be unwise. But he winced as Carson shone the light in his eyes.

"You're still a wee bit sensitive to light, though," the physician commented.

"Yeah," John conceded.

"Umm-hmm. Rodney's told me a little of what you lads have been up to, and I intend to discuss that with you later." John swallowed nervously. Carson's calm, even tone was somehow more intimidating than his ordinary, accent-heavy tirade. "In the meantime, though, there are still a few more tests I need to run." A tech stepped up and whispered something to the doctor, who nodded in response. "Head scan first, Colonel. Are you going to be able to remain still for it?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I?"

Carson shrugged. "No real reason. It's just that it's going to take longer than the ones you're used to. I can give you something if you need it…"

"No." Something was up. "What aren't you telling me, doc?"

The physician crossed his arms and gave John his patented stare. "After the scan," he repeated, now with a touch of anger in his voice. "And perhaps then you can also be filling me in on what else you haven't told me yet."

Carson strode off, revealing Elizabeth standing behind him. (Rodney had conveniently disappeared.) John looked at her sheepishly. "He's pissed."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Yes, John. I wonder why."

He was saved from having to answer by the arrival of the tech with a wheelchair. "We're ready for you, Colonel."

"I think I can walk." John snapped.

The other man looked apologetic. "Sorry, sir. Dr. Beckett was pretty insistent about this." He gestured at the chair.

Mindful of Elizabeth's presence, John acquiesced, but with ill grace. "Well, all right then!" He transferred himself out of the bed with exaggerated care. "Let's go."

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Carson was right; this scan was much longer than the norm. John was glad that it was Rodney who was the claustrophobe, otherwise the experience of being stuck in the machine would have been unpleasant. After it was over, he continued to lie on the table until Carson finished going over the results with a radiologist. Then he was returned to the main part of the infirmary by the tech.

A pair of red scrubs lay on the bed, so John knew he would be staying the night. He couldn't quite suppress a sigh as he changed. He really hadn't wanted anyone to make a big deal about his new telekinetic ability. (John grimaced at even having to use the word. It sounded way too much like a comic book.)

Once finished, he flopped back down on the bed. Bored, he started playing the air guitar, picking out the chords to "Walk the Line." Appropriate, since he seemed to be walking a fine line of his own. Better not to subject anyone to his singing, though. He was already in enough trouble as it was.

A few minutes later, Rodney came back into the infirmary. He glanced around surreptitiously, then walked over to the bed. "You gonna live?"

John snorted. "If I wasn't, it would be your fault," he grumbled. "As it is, I'll probably be stuck here until I'm old and gray."

He regretted his choice of words as soon as they came out of his mouth. Here in the Pegasus galaxy, becoming prematurely old, gray, and dead was a distinct possibility. Rodney grimaced, too. "Yeah, well, I'm sorry for almost killing you."

"Don't you think you're being overly dramatic?"

"No, Colonel, he's not," Carson broke into the conversation. "You're just damn lucky you didn't have a stroke." He dragged a chair to the foot of the bed and sat down. Rodney took this as an invitation to perch on the edge of the bed opposite John's, and he ignored the physician's annoyed look.

"A stroke?" John repeated skeptically.

"Yes. Congratulations, your blood pressure was among the highest I've ever seen for a man your age."

"Guess I've got to work on the whole overachieving thing." John knew that would make the Scot even angrier, but he couldn't help himself.

Indeed, Carson looked like he wanted to strangle him. He snapped, "Colonel, what part of 'come back if you have any new symptoms' didn't you understand?"

John shrugged. Keeping his weaknesses to himself had become a habit for the pilot.

"I distinctly recall us having this conversation before. On more than one occasion, in fact." The doctor's face was a mixture of exasperation and concern.

"This didn't seem like an important symptom. If I came to you with every minor ache and pain, I'd be like... well, like Rodney here."

"Hey!" yelped the man in question.

"Sorry. Just trying to make a point."

Carson sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "So what you're saying is that you didn't think that a new ability to move objects with your mind was worth mentioning!"

Rodney had been looking increasingly irritated, and now he burst out, "Oh, come on, Carson. How do you think you would have reacted? 'The patient's main problem is the onset of telekinetic abilities?' You would have thought he was nuts!"

"And good luck trying to bill for that," John chimed in.

Carson's lips twitched involuntarily and he seemed to be trying hard to keep a stern expression on his face. "I work with crazy people," he muttered under his breath.

"Well, then you shouldn't have any trouble relating," Rodney said acidly.

"All right, that's enough of that," said the physician. "How about a truce for now. I have John's test results."

"And...?" John prompted.

"Colonel, when we first got you here, you were showing signs of impending brainstem herniation." Seeing the lack of comprehension on the others' faces, Carson clarified. "Something was increasing the pressure inside your skull and pushing the brain downward. Left alone, that's fatal."

John turned pale, but Carson continued relentlessly. "I was all set to intubate and hyperventilate you to relieve the pressure, but you started to improve on your own. Now, the good news is that there was no damage seen on the scan."

"And the bad news?"

"At first, you were showing 50 percent more brain activity than the human norm. It's slowly returning to baseline, though. I can only conclude that the increased activity caused your condition."

"Something doesn't make sense, though," said Rodney. "Why didn't this happen to Cassandra Frasier or General O'Neill when the Ancients' knowledge was downloaded into his brain? They were sick, yeah, but nothing like this."

Carson looked down at the papers he was holding. "There's more. Your blood chemistry values are completely out of whack. Looking at these numbers, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you just finished a triathlon. They're consistent with dehydration, protein catabolism... anyway, when we're done chatting I'm going to hook you up to IV fluids for a few hours."

"Lovely," John muttered. Louder, he asked, "So now what?"

"Bottom line, lad? I'd forget you ever had this ability. If you keep using it, it could kill you."

John opened his mouth to say he had no problem with that, but he was interrupted. "It may not be that simple," said Rodney.

"Why not?" the other two men asked simultaneously.

"Because you're not always in control of it. As you so eloquently put it, you otherwise wouldn't have let me see a floating pencil." John looked somewhat sheepish. "So you'll probably make objects fly through the air on a regular basis unless you learn how not to." The astrophysicist made a face. "I still can't believe we're actually having this conversation."

Carson snorted. "We have conversations about life-sucking alien vampires all the time. Why is this so much harder to believe?"

"Are you comparing me to a Wraith?" John yelled. "Thanks a lot."

"Son, you know we're not. Stop trying to be difficult."

"He's not just trying."

"Feel free to behave yourself, too, Rodney." Carson covered his eyes for a minute. "You really are overgrown kids. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, yes, we've heard all that before." Rodney stood up. "Well. Maybe there's something we missed in the database on how not to fry your brain while developing weird new mental facilities." He grinned when John smirked at him. "Maybe there's also something on how to protect yourself from space STDs."

"Rodney!" John groaned as his friend sauntered out. When this was all over, he was going to send a memo to Zelenka. Maybe he could help figure out some way to torment McKay in return.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

"Uh, lad? Can you please put that down?"

John looked behind him to see a blood pressure cuff floating in the air next to its wall mount. He swore. "Damn it! This just plain sucks!"

Carson shook his head. "Rodney's right about one thing. I wouldn't believe that if I hadn't seen it." He stared at John. "How does your head feel now?"

John shrugged as the cuff dropped to dangle at the end of its rubber tubing. "Nothing. Doesn't hurt this time. But this is becoming damn awkward!" He suddenly noticed that the physician was standing next to a tray of medical equipment. "Doc?" he asked suspiciously.

"Sorry, John, but I don't think you're going to like this." Carson looked at him sympathetically. "There's one test I haven't done yet. I need to examine the fluid surrounding your brain and spinal cord, to see if there are any unusual proteins or biomarkers."

The colonel's eyes widened. "And you're going to do that how?"

"Lumbar puncture... spinal tap, that is." As John's face turned pale again, Carson hastened to add, "Don't worry, it isn't as bad as it sounds. I'm going to use a local anesthetic, and you shouldn't feel anything." He patted John on the shoulder reassuringly.

"If you say so." The pilot turned on his side when instructed to do so. "How many of these have you done, anyway?"

The physician chuckled. "Successfully or unsuccessfully?"

"Oh, that's funny," John said in a voice tinged with sarcasm and a touch of uneasiness.

Carson snickered again. "Relax, Colonel. I'm very good at this, and I've done more of them than I can count." He poured alcohol and betadine onto a gauze pad and efficiently cleaned a small area at the base of John's spine.

"I collaborated with Janet Frasier at one time," Carson said as he worked.

"Yeah?"

"Lovely lady. She had just adopted her daughter Cassie, and we were trying to decipher the genetic code of a virus." The physician laughed to himself. "Of course, at the time I thought Cassie was from Toronto! That was the cover story. I only found out much later that neither she nor the virus was from Earth. All right, I'm going to inject the local now. You'll feel a stick and a burning sensation."

John hissed. It was worse than he expected. "Easy there!"

"Sorry. Anyway, I bring this up because Cassie once exhibited similar... symptoms."

"Rodney mentioned that."

"It actually explains quite a bit," Carson said earnestly. "You see, she..."

John interrupted. "Can we not talk about this right now? I'm getting seriously freaked out."

"Why?"

"Why? Because this is too strange. Because I feel like a freak, that's why!"

"You're able to control Ancient technology with a thought. Why doesn't that bother you as much?"

The colonel thought about it for a minute. "Because lots of other people can do it, too. It's pretty run-of-the-mill actually, thanks to your gene therapy."

"You say that now, but you have no idea how worried I was at the time that it wouldn't work! To be sure, that was partly due to the thought of Rodney's incessant whining and his demands to activate every Ancient gadget he could get his grubby little hands on."

John remembered Rodney's insane jealousy in Antarctica. The man had positively gaped at the sight of John using the chair with little more effort than walking from one room to another. Not that the pilot had taken advantage of the situation to torment Rodney. Of course not.

Now he grinned slyly at the doctor. "Plus it also might have meant more chances to shoot down a helicopter."

"Colonel, you might not want to insult the man who has a fairly large needle stuck in your lower back." Carson sounded amused.

"You WHAT?"

"Actually..." John felt a slight pressure. "It's out. I'm done."

John was impressed. "Huh. I didn't even feel it."

"I told you. I'm very good at this."

"Yeah. I won't argue with that." He rolled over to lie on his back.

Carson beckoned to a nurse, whispered something to her, then resettled himself in the chair at the foot of the bed. "Back to the original subject. Controlling Ancient technology isn't so bad because everyone's doing it?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Right. This, I'm the only one." Remembering how he had managed it earlier, John lifted a pen out of the Scot's lab coat pocket. "It makes me and, I suspect, everyone else nervous."

"Rodney doesn't look nervous at all."

John snorted. "No, he has that gleam in his eye that he gets when he's trying to figure something out. Not particularly reassuring."

"Well, I won't deny that my scientific curiosity is piqued, too, lad." Carson shrugged. "But at the moment I'm thinking more about trying to keep you in one piece. How's your head now?" He looked concerned.

"That last little bit of wizardry did make it start to twinge again," the pilot admitted.

"So you can exercise your mental muscles only up to a certain point. All right, I'll keep that in mind, so to speak."

"Sooo... that's it? I can go now?" John asked hopefully as the nurse came back. Then he saw what she was carrying and groaned.

"Not so fast. I did say that you needed several liters of IV fluid," Carson replied.

"What about some nice Gatorade or something?" John knew he was whining, but didn't care. If it got him released, he had no pride.

The physician grinned in a conspiratorial fashion. "Oh, no. Elyse here needs the practice."

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Carson relented and let John go early the next morning, after making him promise to eat a decent breakfast and come back in the evening to be checked out. Return to active duty had been an entirely different story, though. When asked, the doctor looked like John had requested permission to adopt a Wraith as a pet. Restricted duty was the most he would allow, and that only after much persuasion.

The pilot tried to keep a low profile when he got to the mess hall. He wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone, particularly Rodney. He was almost successful, but this time it was Elizabeth who came over to him. "We've got to stop meeting like this," John joked feebly.

She didn't look amused. "Beckett released you already?"

"You seem surprised."

"I am," Elizabeth said. "You have no idea how bad you looked when they first got you to the infirmary. Really, John, it was very foolish for you and Rodney to experiment like that without telling anyone."

He was getting tired of hearing that. "Look. Even Carson admitted that he probably wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it himself. And I wouldn't have been able to show him if I hadn't tried to figure out how to use this new 'skill.'"

"But..."

"Elizabeth, Rodney was there! He knew about my new ability -- why should I have told anyone else before we knew what was going on?"

She looked at him with a hurt expression. "I wish you had at least felt that you could talk to me."

Oh, crap. He and Elizabeth had never fully addressed the trust issue after Rodney and Carson had interrupted their post-nanovirus conference. Now it was coming back to bite him in the ass. "I think I would have," John said candidly, "once I knew a little bit more about it myself."

"You think."

"Well, I guess we'll never really know for sure." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Judy Henning, head of nursing, enter the mess hall. John quickly took a bite of a piece of food on his tray, not putting it past the woman to rat him out to her boss. Then he turned back to Elizabeth. "That's something you'll have to trust me on."

Elizabeth didn't look happy, but she let it go. "Well, if you develop any other mental talents besides telekinesis, I'd appreciate being kept in the loop."

John sighed inwardly. They still weren't really confronting the issue head-on. At some point, they needed to air it fully, but not now. He just nodded.

"All right. Carson said that he was only planning to clear you for limited duty. Is that what he ended up doing?" John grimaced. "I figured. Did he elaborate?"

"No. I think he's waiting to see how cooperative I am." He leered at Judy as she walked by and attempted to see what was on his plate. She rolled her eyes back at him.

"So it's safe to assume that you'll probably never leave the city again," Elizabeth smirked.

John was suddenly tempted to stick his tongue out at the leader of the Atlantis expedition, but he wisely refrained. "Nah. Carson'll let me go eventually, as long as I don't mentally pull his chair out when he's about to sit down."

She raised her eyebrows. "And of course you would never do anything like that."

"Definitely not. I'm much more likely to move his coffee cup when he isn't looking."

Elizabeth tilted her head slightly, as if trying to picture that. She sighed, "Whatever you do... just don't tell me about it." She stood up to leave, and beckoned to John to follow her.

They walked toward Elizabeth's office. "Which teams are you going to be sending offworld?" he asked in what he hoped was a casual tone of voice.

She shot a glance at him. "If you're asking about Teyla's trading mission, we're still going ahead with it. Major Lorne will accompany them."

Damn. He figured that was going to be the case, but it didn't hurt to try. "When?"

"Tomorrow. Rodney will go into caffeine withdrawal if we put it off longer than that. The Daedalus won't be back for awhile." Elizabeth laughed at John's expression. "They'll be fine. Stop worrying and get back to work," she said with mock sternness.

"And do what?!"

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The answer was: not much. The men and women under his command had things running smoothly, so they had little need for his help. It also happened to be one of the few days without any emergencies, so he wound up feeling supremely bored. After eating a quick meal that evening, John reluctantly made his way back to the infirmary. "Honey, I'm home!" he yelled sarcastically as he walked through the door.

"Why, hello 'darling'!" Judy retorted as she pointed toward an exam table.

He gave her his most winning smile and batted his eyelashes. "I pined the entire day for you."

She snorted. "How nauseatingly sweet of you, Colonel Sheppard. But that doesn't change the fact that you need a few more blood tests tonight." She held up a butterfly needle.

John let out a heartfelt groan and looked down at his arms. "I have track marks, for God's sake. When I go back to Earth, people will think I'm a junkie. What could you possibly need to check twice in one day?"

Judy gave him a grin of pure wickedness. "Maybe nothing. Maybe we'll even end up throwing it out. But you'll never know..."

"But..."

Carson walked in. "Is he giving you a hard time, love? Don't worry, you'll get hazard pay for this shift." He turned to John. "Son, I wouldn't piss her off if I were you. Judy knows aikido and isn't afraid to use it." John thrust his arm at her with unseemly haste. "Smart lad."

When Judy had left with the samples, John rubbed his elbow. "Now that you two have had your fun for the night, can I go?"

"I'm hurt," Carson said dryly. "One would think you didn't appreciate my hospitality." He held up his hand. "Watch my fingers."

John did so, although it left him cross-eyed. "Seriously, I feel fine."

The physician made a noncommittal noise. "And you'd be so forthcoming about it if you didn't."

"Give me a break about that already, would you?"

Carson listened to John's heard and checked his reflexes, nodding after each. "You do seem to be better," he admitted. "And my spies told me that you took it easy, for the most part."

"Cadman's gonna be on KP duty for the rest of her life!"

"Wasn't Cadman," the Scot said smugly. "I knew that would be too obvious."

"Whoever it was probably didn't mention that I was bored out of my skull!" John exclaimed. "How about letting me go back to work? Just routine missions, nothing else!"

"Yes, because you have so many of those." Carson scowled at his recalcitrant patient.

"What do you think is going to happen? I'll find some alien prom and dump pig's blood on everyone?" The look on the physician's face was priceless. "Never mind. Lousy movie."

"I'd love for you to not accidentally kill yourself."

"Nothing happened since yesterday!" The pilot looked exasperated.

"I somehow don't find that particularly reassuring. Look, lad, bear with me a little longer, all right? Believe me, I want to see you back at work as much as you do -- Lorne can't keep track of wayward scientists like you can, and I'm tired of patching Dr. Parrish up. But think about what might happen if the pressure in your head built up again. Or if your subconscious 'accidentally' made off with some local chief's daughter's unmentionables?"

"My subconscious is much more well-behaved than that," John said stiffly.

Carson mumbled something that sounded like, "And I'm the Queen Mother." But he went on to say, "I don't think you'll be bored tomorrow. Rodney's calibrated his equipment, and he wants to start measuring the parameters of your telekinetic talent."

"I thought you said that almost killed me."

"Aye, that I did. That's why I'll be there, too, to keep you boys out of harm's way." He beamed at John.

"Oh, great... Your Highness."

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"You've got to be kidding me!" John had entered the infirmary in the morning to find a nurse he didn't know setting an assortment of wires and electrodes on an equipment cart. "I don't even want to think about where some of those are supposed to go."

The nurse blushed. "Oh, n..no, Colonel Sheppard. These are for routine vitals, like heart rate and blood pressure. Dr. Beckett is waiting for you in the lab. I'm sure he could explain..." Her voice trailed off nervously.

He grinned, trying to put her at ease. "Lead the way." As he followed, John made a mental note to tell Beckett to keep an eye on this nurse. If she was that intimidated by him, how would she fare under emergency conditions?

He couldn't quite surpass a shudder as he passed the high-level containment area that was being used for work on the retrovirus. Although the really dangerous work was being done in a distant part of the city, enough was going on here to bring back bad memories. When John saw what his two friends were up to, though, he didn't think any good memories were going to come of this, either. Even before the nurse wheeled in the cart, there were still plenty of machines and wires. Not to mention the phlebotomy equipment that Carson was no doubt trying to keep hidden.

Without even looking up from his laptop, Rodney snapped his fingers and pointed to a chair. "Sit."

"Woof," said John as he took a seat.

Carson raised an eyebrow and leaned over towards him. "Och, lad, please don't give Rodney any ideas about veterinary medicine." John shrugged. The way things were looking, he was half-tempted to start making some comments of his own. At the Scot's gesture, he removed his shirt and allowed the nurse to begin applying the electrodes. One on each arm, one on each ankle, six on his chest, and a lot on his head. He lost count after ten. He remained quiet and cooperative as blood was once again drawn from the usual spot, but he drew the line at Carson's next request.

"No frickin' way! You're NOT sticking me in an artery. That one time you did it when I was on a ventilator, my hand ached for days!"

"Told you he wasn't going to let you do it," Rodney mumbled.

Looking at John's face, Carson obviously realized that the colonel was not going to budge. He threw up his hands. "Fine. Big baby." He muttered the last under his breath.

John snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Rodney said the same thing the other day. I'll remember that the next time either of you run screaming like a little girl during a mission or are too chicken to walk through the gate."

Carson put a hand on Rodney's shoulder, silencing what was sure to be an indignant squawk. To John he said, "Grumpy this morning, are we? Remember, though, the sooner we figure out what's going on, the sooner you can go back on active duty." The last two words were heavily emphasized.

The pilot folded his arms over his chest and exhaled loudly. "Then just tell me what you want me to do. But do remember that 'overactive scientific curiosity' conversation we had before."

Rodney gave Carson a puzzled glance but didn't say anything. He tapped a few more keys on the laptop, then nodded. "This is simpler than what we were going to do last time. We're going to see how much you're capable of moving by having you lift some standardized weights." He pointed at a metal block as Carson turned on the EKG and EEG machines. "Start with the 1 kilogram weight."

John lifted the weight after only one false start. This was definitely getting easier. He held the block about a foot above a lab bench, then gently lowered it down again. "How was that?" Rodney asked.

"Fine. Easy, in fact."

The Scot looked up from his monitors. "Heart rate's unchanged, but there's some increased brain activity in the motor cortex and limbic system."

"What the hell does that mean?" John asked.

"At this point, I don't know."

Rodney proceeded to have John lift successively heavier weights. Despite himself, John was secretly curious to see what his upper limit was. After 100 kilograms, though, he had to stop because they ran out of weights. All three men looked at each other thoughtfully.

John had to admit that this was pretty cool. What else could he try? He decided to have some fun with Rodney to pay him back for the STD jokes. He flicked Rodney's shoulder as he was talking with Carson. The physicist reached up and scratched his neck. John did it again.

"Damn bug," Rodney said as he swatted at his shoulder. Then he seemed to realize what he had said. "Bug? We haven't seen any bugs in the city since we got here." He looked around suspiciously, then his eyes fell on John, who had an innocent expression on his face.

"Oh, very mature, Colonel," Rodney snapped.

John started laughing, leaving it to Rodney to explain to Carson what was going on. The doctor raised an amused eyebrow, but his expression held a trace of worry. "I think we should call it quits for today. We still don't know the limits of John's tolerance."

Rodney was disappointed. "Let's try one more thing. We know how much he can lift, but how hard can he throw?"

"He's standing right here!"

But Rodney only snapped his fingers a few times and ran out, yelling "Don't go anywhere!" over his shoulder. When he returned a few minutes later, he was carrying a baseball.

"Where did you get that?" John demanded. But he was grinning, and his eyes lit up at the sight of the ball.

"A few weeks ago, I confiscated it from one of my minions, who was playing with it in the lab. Now maybe we can actually do something useful with it." Rodney flipped the ball to John.

Carson groaned and covered his eyes. "Doc?" asked the pilot. "You all right with this?"

"Of course I'm not all right with this, Colonel. But don't let that stop you."

"Lighten up, Carson," said Rodney. "This could prove to be quite educational."

"So says the man whose last words are likely to be either 'Wow' or 'Oops'!"

Rodney turned back to the pilot. "Care to do the honors?"

John grinned again and tossed the ball up in the air twice. On the third toss, he reached out with his mind and stopped it a few inches above his hand. Then he imagined himself winding up for the pitch, cocking his arm back, and... throwing! The ball sped towards the opposite wall of the lab. It bounced hard and careened towards a nearby window. Both John and Rodney winced as it crashed through, and they could hear it impact several times before it finally dropped away toward the ocean below.

"Wow," said Rodney.

"Oops," said John.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

John playfully nudged Rodney with his shoulder. "Hey, Timmy," he said. "Mom said no playing ball in the house."

Rodney closed his mouth with an audible snap. Stealing a glance at Carson, he said, "Oh my, would you look at the time. Gotta go! Missions to do, worlds to save, things like that." Then he practically ran out of the lab.

Carson also had a glazed look on his face. He gave a low whistle. "Do you have any idea of how hard you must have thrown that? I've not seen any of these windows broken before." He shook his head and turned his full attention back to John. "Any ill effects, Colonel?"

His head didn't really hurt -- not exactly. Instead it felt clogged, like he had the flu. John didn't want to say anything, but his brief hesitation had been noted by the physician. So he told the truth, hoping to forestall any argument.

Carson didn't look too pleased with the news. But all he said was, "Well, I guess it's an improvement compared to the last time." He looked at the EEG machine, then back at the colonel. "I don't suppose I could convince you to wear a portable EEG monitor?"

The expression on John's face was quite eloquent.

"Didn't think so," Carson sighed and began pulling off the electrodes. "I should have the data analyzed by tonight. Try not to get into too much trouble before then." He grumbled about stubborn flyboys as he maneuvered the equipment cart out of the lab.

John walked after the physician. He didn't have anything else to do, and bugging Carson was always good for a few laughs. The way he saw it, it was the doc's fault for grounding him! He followed a short distance behind as Carson walked toward his office. Along the way the Scot was stopped by two nurses and the chief pharmacist. Each interruption took several minutes; how did the man ever manage to get anything done?

The doctor stopped outside the door to his office. Without turning around, he said, "It's going to be a long day for both of us if you insist on spending it looking over my shoulder."

Busted! John smirked. "But Carson, I'm bo-oo-red!" he said with an exaggerated whine.

"If you're trying to drive me crazy so I'll clear you for active duty, it won't work. My mum often left me to watch my younger brothers and sisters. I was quite good at dealing with the wee hooligans, so I can probably out-stubborn you." Carson looked over his shoulder with a wicked gleam in his eye. "I wouldn't suggest trying to pit your nuisance factor against my babysitting tactics."

What could John possibly say to that? Nothing. Safer to just quit while he was ahead.

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Foiled in his attempt to annoy Carson, the pilot resigned himself to dealing with the paperwork that was slowly piling up. Six subjective months without it had been a welcome change. It was amazing, the crap he had to deal with. At first he'd attempted to avoid it by not designating an office, but Elizabeth had finally gotten wise to that.

Now his office was located just outside the control room, presumably where Elizabeth could keep an eye on him. A large stack of papers pointedly sat in the middle of the desk. John picked up the first and signed it; it was a requisition for P90 ammo. The next was a scathing memo from McKay suggesting that John recruit some military personnel who actually knew something about science, since the current ones seemed to still think the Earth was flat. John snorted at that and set the memo aside to rib McKay about later. The third item was an official letter of complaint from Kavanaugh, which quickly wound up in the trash.

He settled into a routine of grabbing and signing papers, until one made him sit up sharply. It was from Bates, informing him that plans for the computer shut-down had been finalized. As Bates' commanding officer, he should have been involved in the planning! John angrily strode from the room to look for the security chief. He found him in the armory.

"Sergeant!"

The other man stiffened. "Yes, sir?" His voice was even and his manner correct, but John still sensed that Bates was sneering at him.

The colonel held up the offending memo. "What is this?"

Bates folded his arms across his chest. "I would think that was obvious, sir." Insubordinate son of a bitch.

"Why wasn't I informed that you were finalizing the plans? I should have had some input!"

Bates was unapologetic. "You're not on full active duty at the moment."

"I don't need to be on full active duty to sit at a conference table!" John yelled.

Bates looked him straight in the eye. "Sir, at the moment you're a security risk. Until Dr. Beckett figures out what's going on, we can't afford to give you access to sensitive information."

He couldn't believe this. "So I can throw a baseball without using my hands. It doesn't mean that I'm going to betray us to the Wraith!"

"Maybe not consciously. But Teyla..."

"Is this about Teyla again?" John had an unwelcome sense of déja vu. The Athosian and the security chief had developed an uneasy detente. For the most part, they ignored each other, with only some minor sniping from time to time. Why did Bates have to pick now to become paranoid about her again?

"Sir, I accept that she's a lot better now at controlling... whatever it is that she does. But she probably leaked information like a sieve when she first started! You might be doing the same thing."

"You're overlooking one key thing," said John. "Tapping into telepathic networks isn't what I do. I'm just the special effects guy. So I'm ordering you to..."

"Sorry, sir." Bates didn't really sound sorry at all. "Until further notice, you're to be denied access to sensitive information and will be restricted from certain areas of this base."

Not if he could help it. "Have it your way for now. I suspect Dr. Weir will override you, though." But he was stunned at the other man's next words.

"Who do you think authorized it in the first place?"

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People jumped out of his way as John exited the transporter and strode toward the control room. Two marines guarding the entrance made as if to stop him, but he plowed through them like a linebacker. Once inside, he forced himself to calm down. Wreaking havoc in Elizabeth's office again wasn't going to earn him any brownie points. She'd only just repaired the damage he did while turning into a bug.

So John knocked politely at her door and waited for permission to enter. She didn't keep him waiting long. "Good to see you're still doing well," she said pleasantly as she beckoned him inside.

Okay, he'd play this her way. "Thank you," he said with false politeness, trying not to grit his teeth.

Elizabeth folded her hands on the desk in front of her. "What can I do for you, John?"

As if she didn't know. "I suppose I can understand why I shouldn't be on active duty," he conceded. (He understood, but he still didn't like it!) "What I don't see is why you have to limit my access to... well, everything!"

She sighed and gave him a rueful smile. "Well, it sure didn't take you long to find out."

"Bad news travels fast. So, what gives?"

"I'm worried about you," she said frankly. "Even here in the Pegasus galaxy, paranormal abilities represent uncharted territory. So until we know more..."

"But that's just it!" John protested. "I don't have 'abilities," plural. I can do one thing that's outside the realm of human norm." He was beginning to feel like a broken record.

"That's true... for now. We have no idea if something else will develop down the line."

"You could argue that for any one of us!" But even as he said that, John knew it was stupid. As a matter of probability, he was much more likely to develop another paranormal talent than anyone else in the city.

Elizabeth's face softened. "This isn't personal, John. Nor is it likely to be permanent. Just be patient."

He felt like slamming his hand down on the desk. "I was patient! I was patient for six goddamn months in that time dilation field!" he snapped. "Now I just want to get back to normal and forget that any of it happened. Sitting around doing nothing isn't going to help. I'm not a security risk!"

Elizabeth leaned back in her chair and studied John over her steepled fingers. "This really bothers you. Why?"

Damn the woman. He hated it when she tried to analyze him. She was probably only one or two steps away from sending him to see Heightmeyer. "Why the hell wouldn't it? You're basically saying that you don't trust me." Crap, there was the trust thing again!

She looked disappointed in him "That's not true, but I'm sorry you feel that way. Regardless, my decision still stands. Sorry, but there it is."

John nodded. "There it is," he repeated angrily. "Tell me one thing, though. Was this Bates' idea?"

"Actually," said Elizabeth, "it was mine. Sergeant Bates and Dr. Beckett agreed with me, though."

"Et tu, Carson?" John muttered, feeling betrayal like a kick in the gut. The physician had said nothing about this particular concern before. When had he planned to mention it? "Can you at least tell me how the trading mission went?" John asked in a louder voice. Rodney and company might be home by now, and he could enlist the physicist's aid in trying to change Elizabeth's mind. (Either that, or kick his ass for getting him stuck beyond the portal. It was going to be a tough decision.)

She looked relieved at the change of subject. "I just heard from the team; they're on their way back now. It sounds like we got practically everything we wanted, and a Cerean delegation is going to bring the first shipment tomorrow as a sign of friendship." Elizabeth held up her hand as John looked at her with concern. "Yes, I know what you're going to say. We're setting up elaborate security measures for when they'll be here. I can't tell you what those are, but we'll be fine."

He grimaced. "Beckett had better come up with his answer soon. This is going to get old real fast."

Elizabeth gave him a wry smile. "Work with him, and I'm sure he will."

Both of them heard a chirp in their earpieces. "Colonel Sheppard, please report to the infirmary."

"There's your chance," said Elizabeth.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

"Watch the hair!" John snapped irritably at the man applying the electrodes to his scalp. He sat on a hard metal chair next to an exam table, fuming at the hapless EEG tech who stood behind him.

"As if anyone would notice the difference," Rodney said sarcastically. John looked up to see his friend standing in the doorway. "Elizabeth filled me in when we got back."

"So, was any of this your idea, too?"

"Hello, didn't you just hear me say that Elizabeth only filled me in when we got back? But if she had asked me, I would have said no. I haven't seen anything to indicate that it's necessary to keep you partially isolated like this."

"Why thank you, Doctor McKay. I'll keep your medical opinion under advisement." Carson's face appeared behind Rodney. The physicist rolled his eyes, taking care to ensure that the Scot couldn't see it. Then he turned around and folded his arms across his chest.

"Well, we're awaiting yours with baited breath! Assuming, of course, that it has nothing to do with leeches or bloodletting!"

Carson raised his eyes to the ceiling. "Lord grant me patience," he muttered. Glaring at John, he continued in a louder voice, "I'll be happy to fill you both in once the Colonel decides to let my people do their jobs!"

"Well, how the hell do you expect me to feel?" John snapped. "I'm the one who should be pissed!" While he was distracted, the tech took the opportunity to finish his work and run out of the room.

Carson didn't respond at first, but his eyes grew sympathetic. When he did finally speak, it was in a much calmer tone. Pointing to the small black box hanging on John's belt, he said, "That's the portable EEG monitor you didn't want to wear earlier. After reviewing this morning's performance, lad, I'm afraid I have to insist."

"Would you tell us what's going on, already?" Rodney looked and sounded almost as worried as John was starting to feel. "Oh my God. He has a brain tumor, doesn't he."

What came out of John's mouth was a cross between a squawk and a yelp. "Rodney! I have enough problems without adding cancer to the mix. So lay off, would you?"

"I was only trying to... right, shutting up now."

Carson sighed. "Come with me, I want to show you something." He led the other men into his office, typed something on his computer keyboard, then turned the screen around to face them. Three sets of brainwaves were displayed there. "The top one is John's, part of the battery of tests we put him through to show that there was full recovery from the retrovirus. The middle one is from this morning." The middle tracing looked a lot more chaotic in places.

"What's the one on the bottom?" asked John.

"That's Teyla's. During our little experiment in telepathic communication, she was still hooked up when she went on her rampage." Carson, now in full professor mode, pointed to a part of the tracing that looked particularly squiggly to John. "This area is the limbic system, which controls emotional regulation and processing. When Teyla was taken over, she..."

"Beat the crap out of both of you in a fit of rage?" Rodney couldn't resist rubbing it in.

The Scot was too smart to take the bait. "Aye." He pointed back at John's EEG. "Your limbic system is showing similar activity, albeit to a lesser degree. So, you see why we're worried."

Rodney saved John from having to say it again. "But he's not under Wraith influence! I think we would notice."

A muffled "Thank God" could be heard from both the physician and the pilot.

"That's true," Carson admitted. "Some of Teyla's abnormalities could be Wraith-related and therefore irrelevant to the current situation. That's why I'll be asking her if she'd be willing to wear a portable monitor, too. But..."

"But, nothing," John interrupted. "You still haven't explained why that limbic thing is getting you so riled up."

"Riled up is a good way of putting it, Colonel. Do I need to spell it out? Increased brain activity in a region we know is involved with the emotion of anger..."

"Oh."

"Yes. Oh, indeed."

"You think he's going to have random anger attacks and try to kill people?" Rodney snorted. "You can't possibly know that from some jagged lines on a screen! Although there are no doubt individuals on this base who would make useful outlets for such an attack."

John had a sinking feeling that he knew where this was heading. "Let me guess. You're going to call in an "expert." One who knows how to deal with "anger management" issues."

"That's very perceptive of you, Colonel Sheppard," said Kate Heightmeyer from where she was standing in the doorway. She gave him a smile that was probably meant to be disarming, but he still groaned in frustration.

"You're both ganging up on me!" he protested.

"Considering that I usually have to resort to threats, I figured this would save a little time," Carson said with wry amusement.

John looked plaintively at Rodney, who shrugged in return. He then turned back to the psychologist with a grimace. "Am I going to have to lie down on your couch? I'll warn you in advance that I'll probably doze off."

She didn't appear fazed by that at all. "I can work with that. Relax, I don't bite."

Rumors attributed to Sergeant Bates said otherwise, but John wasn't going to mention that. What his security chief and the base shrink did on their down-time was their own business. Still, it was a disturbing mental image.

Finally he said, "Well, in that case, I can't wait!"

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In the end, John had grinned, flirted a bit, and not really said a damn thing. Heightmeyer hadn't been fooled for a minute, though. He knew that he would eventually have to talk to her to regain his flight clearance, but he sure as hell wasn't going to make it easy for her.

He positively seethed when he heard the announcement of an off-world activation come over his radio. He should be there with his team! However, Bates showed up shortly thereafter, looking like he'd swallowed a lemon. Probably better than Rodney looking like he'd swallowed a lemon, but still not a good sigh. "Sergeant," John said evenly.

"Sir. Dr. Weir would like you to join her in the gateroom."

"Oh?" John raised an eyebrow.

"The leader of the Cerean delegation is upset that your whole team wasn't there to greet them. He's worried that they've insulted us somehow." Bates obviously didn't care what the Cerean leader thought. "We can't have the natives upset," he said sarcastically.

John fell into step with the security chief as they walked towards the gateroom. Neither of them said anything further, but John could feel Bates' suspicious stare. "What!" he finally snapped.

"I don't agree with Dr. Weir's decision, sir."

John's fragile hold on patience broke at that point. "Would you rather I be locked up in the brig, Sergeant? A nice little freak on parade? I couldn't do anything about it when you treated Teyla like this, but I won't tolerate it from you now!"

They'd reached the doorway to a balcony overlooking the control room. John stopped and glanced at his reflection in a polished panel to make sure the blasted electrodes were hidden. Then, before Bates could say anything else, he walked over to where Elizabeth was standing near the railing. She was talking to the leader of the delegation, and a small reception was taking place down below.

"Hello, Colonel," she smiled. "I'm glad we were able to have you join us. You obviously know Councilman Rand."

"Sure I do," John said as politely as he could manage. What he really wanted to do was give Liz the cold shoulder, though.

"I was concerned when you did not return with your team, Colonel Sheppard," said Rand. "I was worried we had offended in some way."

"No, no," John said. "I was... feeling a little under the weather, that's all."

"He was feeling ill," Elizabeth added, seeing the councilman's puzzled look. "But he's fine now."

"Glad to hear it!" boomed Rand. He gestured at the pile of goods that had been brought through the Stargate. "I hope this will signal the start of a fruitful partnership."

"As do we," said Elizabeth warmly. She drew Rand away. "Now I'd like you to meet some of our scientists..."

John leaned against the railing, and Rodney joined him there a few minutes later. "Plenty of coffee now," Rodney said happily.

"Not exactly."

"No, not exactly," Rodney agreed. "I can't even pronounce what it actually is. But my body thinks it's coffee, and that's what counts."

"You need a good 12-step program," John said. "You... hey, what's wrong?"

Rodney's head had suddenly snapped up and he put a hand to his earpiece. "McKay here. What? Calm down and tell me what's happening... it's what! Okay, okay, I'll be right there." He turned to John. "I knew we should have dealt with the database sooner. It looks like it's about to crash."

"Go!" After a minute, Zelenka slipped out, too. Then, to make matters worse, John noticed one of the Cereans looking nervous and edging toward a dimly-lit area in the rear of the gateroom. Ignoring Bates' outraged glare, he descended the stairs to join the crowd on the gateroom floor.

Trying not to be too obvious about it, he made his way toward the twitchy delegate. The man had moved further into the shadows. Holding a small, round object with flashing lights, he was kneeling next to a wall that held both a power conduit and a ventilation shaft. "Whatcha doing?" John asked, deliberately casual.

The delegate jumped and looked around guiltily. "N...nothing," he stammered. "I was just curious about the architecture."

"Uh-huh. So what's with the little round thing.?"

The man had obviously shoved it into a pocket of his tunic. "What?"

"Oh, come on! I saw it in your hand. Do you think I'm an idiot?"

The Cerean tried to put on an innocent expression. "I think you're mistaken, that's all."

"Excuse me, sirs, is there a problem?" One of Bates' deputies walked over to them. John found it disconcerting that the deputy was eyeing both him and the delegate with equal suspicion.

He really needed to get Bates reassigned. Somehow.

"No problem," John said calmly, careful to keep his hands in clear sight. "I was simply..."

"... falsely accusing me!"

"I never accused you of anything. I just wanted to know why you were getting close to our power conduits with a small, round, blinking object."

To give him credit, the security officer immediately pulled his weapon and pointed it unwaveringly at the delegate. "Don't move!" he said. At the same time, John discreetly called for back-up.

The Cerean looked frantically back and forth between John and Bates' deputy. John held out his empty hands and tried to make his voice sound placating. "Look, I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding. Why don't you give me the device, then Corporal..." He glanced quickly at the man's uniform. "... Collins will lower his weapon and we can talk like civilized people."

The sound of pounding footsteps distracted John for a split second, and the delegate took the opportunity to lunge at him. His fist caught John squarely on the cheekbone, and pain blossomed behind the colonel's eyes. It took a minute for his vision to clear, and when it did, he was greeted by the sight of the Cerean attempting to strangle Collins.

John cursed. There didn't seem to be a way to pull the guy off without giving him the opportunity to crush Collins' windpipe in the process. And the security officer's face was getting progressively bluer with each passing second.

Later, John would swear that what happened was pure instinct. He _reached_ in a way that was starting to become familiar, and the delegate's fingers uncurled themselves from Collins' throat. Before the Cerean could do much more than jerk around in surprise, John had flung him into the wall. A second later, a Wraith stunner blast put a definitive end to the problem. He exhaled noisily with relief.

The next stunner blast caught him squarely between the shoulder blades.

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The total body pins-and-needles sensation that was the hallmark of a stun blast greeted John as he slowly returned to consciousness. The next thing he became aware of was the ubiquitous beeping of a heart monitor. He was in the infirmary again. Hadn't he just been through this?

John opened his eyes to see that padded restraint cuffs were attached to his wrists and ankles. What the fuck! And why did someone shoot him? Hearing voices approach, he quickly closed his eyes again and slowed his breathing. Until he had more information, he was going to play possum.

From the sound of the footsteps, two people were walking towards him. The first intelligible words were Elizabeth's. "What happened, Carson?"

The physician sounded concerned. "According to Sergeant Bates, a call for back-up came over the radio. When he arrived, he saw Colonel Sheppard toss the Cerean delegate aside like he was a rag doll. With his mind. Corporal Collins couldn't provide any details because he was half-dead, so Bates thought it would be prudent to stun both parties."

John almost betrayed himself, but stifled his automatic protest at the last instant. Stunning his commander was Bates' idea of caution? He was willing to bet that the security chief wouldn't have acted that way if Sumner was still in charge.

"Is Corporal Collins going to be all right?"

"Aye. He'll be here for a day or two so we can watch for any swelling around his airway, and he probably shouldn't talk very much for awhile, but he's likely to make a full recovery. Now, what do the Cereans have to say for themselves?"

"Not much. Councilman Rand said that our attacker was a last minute addition to the delegation, replacing someone who broke his ankle. But he swears that this man, Corman, is a trusted member of their government. Rand knows of no reason why Corman would suddenly turn to sabotage."

John could practically hear the physician's grimace. "So what was that bloody thing?"

"It was a small bomb, as bombs go," Elizabeth answered. Oh, well, that made it so much better! She continued, "Sergeant Bates detonated it harmlessly in the ocean."

John kept his eyes closed as the voices stopped in front of his bed. He heard someone -- presumably Carson -- tapping on a data pad. The physician made a sound of disapproval. "This corresponds to approximately the time of the altercation. See that brainwave spike on the portable EEG? And overall brain activity is up by about 40. That's an improvement from before, but still worrisome. The spinal fluid results are back, too. Dopamine levels are sky-high. Intriguing, I have to admit..."

"Carson," Elizabeth's voice chided gently. "Bottom line?"

"I have no idea," he admitted. "There's so much information we don't have. I don't know if the decreased activity represents his brain adapting or a waning of the ability. I also don't know if John was acting in self-defense when he threw the Cerean." Carson stopped to take a breath. "Elevated levels of dopamine could be normal for a telekinetic, or it could indicate early psychosis. If it's the latter..."

Ever practical, Elizabeth asked, "What do you recommend?"

The doctor sighed. "I think you need to remove him from duty altogether. And I'd like to keep him here for observation and further testing. Maybe an antipsychotic..." Whatever else Carson might have wanted to do was lost as he and Elizabeth moved out of earshot.

As soon as he was sure they were gone, John opened his eyes in a flash. He had to get out of here now, or he probably never would. He had no desire to submit to any more of Beckett's ministrations; he remembered his convalescence from the retrovirus all too well.

He had the restraints off within minutes -- no problem for a telekinetic. He made a mental note to tell Carson at some point that he shouldn't discuss prognosis around supposedly unconscious patients. That had gotten him into trouble with Ford, too. John was grateful for it this time, though.

As he was trying to get out of bed, John realized too late that he had been spotted. "Ah, Colonel, you're awake again," said Carson. "This is getting to be a bad habit, son." The physician's cheerfulness seemed forced, though, and his eyes widened as he took in the discarded cuffs. "How much of that discussion did you hear?" he asked grimly.

"Enough," John replied. "You want to turn me into a lab rat. No thanks."

"It's not like that at all!" Carson protested.

"Damn it, Beckett!" John snapped. "I am getting sick and tired of being your guinea pig!" Ignoring the stricken look on the other man's face, he pushed past a guard that had appeared at the infirmary door, and was gone.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Many of you were upset at the way the good doctors Weir and Beckett treated John. Rest assured, he's also upset, and he won't easily forget this._

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Rodney walked in to find the lab in a state of barely controlled chaos. Most of the city's computer geeks were there already, including that Canadian guy whose name he could never remember. The physicist snagged a tech by the sleeve as she ran past. "What's going on?"

"We were trying to back up as many files as we could before starting the repairs. But then..." She gestured helplessly. "The operations we were running slowed to a standstill, and aborting the backup only made it worse."

Rodney wanted to bang his head against the wall. "Of course it did! You just fragmented more files to add to the mix. Did Zelenka agree to this?" His tone left no doubt as to what would happen to Zelenka if had been the one to authorize it.

The tech flushed. "No, sir. We... didn't call Dr. Zelenka. We thought we could do this ourselves, and we didn't want to bother him."

Now Rodney wanted to bang someone else's head into a wall. "First off, don't call me sir. I'm not military. And that's lucky for you, because otherwise I'd have you cleaning septic tanks with your toothbrushes for the rest of your lives! Never do something like that without clearing it with Zelenka or me. We'll tell you about the inevitable catastrophic flaws in your plans."

The woman turned pale now, and nodded once with a sharp jerk. She turned to walk away, and Rodney wondered if she was going to cry. She was new here, and hadn't been on the receiving end of his ire before. He was perversely relieved to see her make a rude gesture when she thought he wasn't watching. Pissed off he could handle, rampant emotionalism he couldn't. He keyed his radio. "Dr. Zelenka, can you please join us in the computer lab. I'd hate for you to miss all the excitement down here."

"What?" From the background noise, it sounded like he was still at the reception.

"Just get down here!"

Moments later, Radek arrived, glasses askew and hair flying in all different directions. "What is going on? Oh, no..." He slipped into Czech as he tapped some commands on a laptop. "This is not good, Rodney. We're going to lose a lot of data unless we shut down the other systems now and start the defragmentation."

"Yes, yes, I know," the physicist snapped. For a fleeting instant, he wished that Grodin was still here. Peter had been a whiz with most computers, and he was one of the few people to really understand how to manage the Ancient system. "Do it!"

He watched as Radek's fingers expertly flew over the keyboard. A minute later, the engineer sighed. "I think we got to it in time. The file structure of the database is still intact and repairs have begun."

Rodney let out a breath he hadn't even been aware he was holding. "Good." He looked over Radek's shoulder at the laptop screen. "What systems did we lose?"

Radek rubbed his chin. "It looks like long range sensors are down. The main generators are still on, but we've lost the backups for the infirmary and the jumper bay. Thank God, the cloak and control chair were not affected. Let's see... many of the transporters are inactive, but scattered units throughout the city are still functional."

"You're saving the worst for last, aren't you."

"Unfortunately, yes. The self-destruct can be armed and disarmed manually, but we have no computer control of it. And the gate shield cannot be raised."

"Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa!" Rodney held up one hand. "I thought you said a few days ago that Stargate operations wouldn't be affected?"

"It shouldn't have been," Radek answered. "But since we had to do this somewhat emergently... well, I couldn't be as selective as I wanted to be regarding the systems that were compromised."

"Well, that's great! This is going to take... what, 24 hours?"

The other man nodded.

"She's going to love this," Rodney muttered. Then he tapped his earpiece and said in a louder voice, "Elizabeth. Here's what's happening..."

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John sat against the wall, watching as the dying sunset faded away. He liked this room because of its panoramic windows. Located high in a tower on the western side of the city, it afforded a great view of the surrounding ocean by day and an incredible number of stars at night.

Of course, it was only a matter of time before someone tracked him here. This far away from the occupied areas of the city, his life signs would stand out like a beacon. That was fine; he was eventually going to have to deal with this, anyway. Sitting here would just give him some time to think. He couldn't put his life on hold indefinitely while Beckett played mad scientist and Bates decided whether or not he was a threat. More importantly, he wouldn't.

John leaned his head back and closed his eyes. If he was going to be honest with himself, he had to admit that he currently didn't trust his friends any more than they seemed to trust him. In the months since the siege, there had been a gradual breakdown of communications among all of them. Rodney didn't rely on him so much since he'd been left hanging in a tree on P3M-736, a favor that John had returned after Doranda. Despite his reassuring words to Carson during the retrovirus incident, John remained somewhat wary about the Scot. The physician, in turn, would probably never believe any of John's assessments of his own health.

And then there was Elizabeth. Again, being honest with himself, John knew it was his fault to some degree. He still thought his actions during the nanite outbreak were correct, but he probably could have been a little more tactful. Now they would probably always doubt each other a bit during a crisis, even if it wasn't on a conscious level.

John dozed fitfully as the hours passed. At one point, he roused himself and became aware of someone sitting quietly next to him. He didn't have to see to know who it was. The two men sat in silence for a long time, not looking at each other. Finally he said to Carson, "What, no guards with elephant guns?"

Sounding for all the world like he was in the middle of a friendly conversation, Carson said mildly, "No. Sorry to disappoint you."

"Ah."

They were quiet again for awhile. The physician was the next one to break the silence. "Lovely spot you found."

"Yeah. It's good for sitting and doing nothing." John continued to stare out over the water.

Another period of silence followed, with both of them lost in their own thoughts. At last Carson sighed. "So, lad, how are we going to fix this?"

"Can we?" John asked bluntly. "I'm not sure I trust you anymore."

Carson winced. "I'd like to think so," he said. "I consider you a friend as well as a patient. How about I start things off by apologizing?" John gave a non-committal grunt, but he didn't try to stop the physician. "I didn't mean for you to feel like a 'guinea pig.' I'm sorry about that."

"Well, gee, Carson. How did you expect me to feel? You haven't been straight with me since this all started!" John shook his head in disgust. "You didn't tell me about being taken off duty -- I had to find out from Bates. Why didn't you let me know right away what you were worried about?"

"Because I didn't know right away what I was worried about! If that makes any sense. All I knew at first was that you were missing for six subjective months, and when you got back you had picked up an extranormal ability. The only other cases I'm aware of involved genetic manipulation by aliens! What was I supposed to think?"

John had to concede the physician's point. "You still could have told me yourself," he grumbled.

"Oh, right," Carson scoffed. " 'Excuse me, Colonel Sheppard. I'm relieving you of duty because I think you might be under alien influence.' I'm sure that would have gone over quite well."

John snorted. "Yeah, I guess I would have been a little put off by that." Then he grew sober again. "But I'm serious about not being a lab rat, doc. I've given you no reason to keep me locked up, and certainly none that would justify feeding me happy pills. How's Collins?" he asked pointedly.

"Yes, I'll admit you probably saved his life. You don't have to remind me of that," Carson agreed, accepting John's seeming non-sequitur as a not-so-subtle jab. He ran a hand through his rumpled hair. "What can I say? Nothing we've seen here in Pegasus was even remotely covered in medical school, and I'm still learning. I admit that I probably made a mistake. I'm human."

Although he knew the physician couldn't see him, John smirked. He just couldn't resist. "Some people would have tacked a 'so sue me' onto the end of that."

"You will never get a doctor to say that!" Carson mumbled something under his breath that sounded like "bloody American legal system." Then his earpiece chirped. "Beckett here. Yes. Yes, love, we're fine. Both of us. We're... discussing some issues... Right. Will do. Beckett out." John felt his expression harden. He wasn't going to let this opportunity to have a serious discussion with Elizabeth slip away like it had after the nanovirus.

The doctor must have sensed this. "Don't you start!" he said sternly. "She just wants to be sure you're all right. She -- the entire expedition, actually -- depends on you. And not just for your gene, either!"

"I get that, Carson. I do. It's just... you both have to back off a little bit. I'm a big boy. If there's any concrete evidence that something bad's going to happen, tell me. If not, give me some room to breathe without someone jumping on me whenever I twitch. Please."

It was starting to get light in the room, just enough for John to see the concern in the other man's eyes. "Aye. But I'm starting to wonder about something. You don't tell me things -- it's like pulling teeth to get you to admit it when there's something wrong with you. You hate being confined to the infirmary, more than anyone else. You're willing to confide in Rodney, but you don't want me to keep an eye on you. This is more than just you trying to avoid being taken off active duty when you're sick. Something happened to you, didn't it? Maybe in Afghanistan?"

John's lips started to form a denial, then stopped. What was the point? Carson was like a bulldog; he wouldn't let go once he scented a problem. "I wouldn't exactly call it 'willingly confiding' in Rodney, but yeah. Something happened, but it's over and done with. I don't want to talk about it."

"You don't have to, son, although I wish you would. Since I know you'll never willingly talk to Kate about anything, I'll volunteer myself as a sounding board and leave it at that. Or... if you're not comfortable with that, I'm sure Schwartz wouldn't mind."

"No, I'm sure he wouldn't," John said neutrally.

Carson looked at the brightening sky. "Ready to go back? You're probably hungry, and I'd love some coffee."

John got to his feet, wincing as his stiff back muscles protested. "What happens now?"

"You haven't had any more episodes of respiratory shutdown, so that's positive. I'll cancel the medical supervision, and my official report will recommend that you be returned to duty soon." He looked at the colonel sadly. "Unofficially, I hope you'll eventually trust me enough again to fill me in on some of the background."

"Maybe." Not for a very long time, though. As he'd told Rodney, trust had to be earned back. "But in the meantime, I'm doing okay. Don't worry, everything's going to be fine."

And that's when they both heard the explosion.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

"Holy crap!" Carson yelped, even as John was reaching for his earpiece. The colonel's fingers encountered only empty air, and he remembered he hadn't been wearing the thing when he fled the infirmary.

"Doc, give me your radio!" John said urgently. Carson complied, and if either of them noticed that it seemed to leave the physician's hand of its own accord, they didn't mention it.

"Control room, come in," John said. "Control room, this is Sheppard, do you copy?" He paused, and when he got no response, he changed channels. "Elizabeth? What's going on? Are you reading me?" Static greeted all of his efforts.

"Do you think the explosion was in the control room, then?" Carson asked, his eyes wide.

"I'm not ruling anything out," John replied flatly. He had effortlessly slipped into his tactical mode, and Carson could practically see his brain calculating possibilities.

"Let me have the radio for a minute," said the physician. The colonel passed it back, and Carson tried to reach the infirmary. "Beckett to on-call team."

Static.

"Beckett to on-call team, please respond."

He heard nothing but white noise, but just as he was about to concede defeat, a faint voice answered through the crackling. "... Beckett... hear me? Where are...?"

"Oh, thank God!" Carson exclaimed. Even though the signal was fading in and out, the sound of another person on the other end of the line was reassuring. "Who's this?"

The transmission cleared a bit. "This is Judy, Carson. Are you all right?"

"Oh, aye. Colonel Sheppard and I are both fine. What's going on?" He ignored John's increasingly impatient gestures. Out of all the infirmary staff, he was glad it was Judy who'd answered.

She must have been frightened, but her voice stayed resolutely calm. Carson related the story to John, line by line. It seemed as if the explosion had indeed originated in the gate control room. No one knew yet what had triggered it, but a team of field medics had gone to check for casualties. The physician suddenly stopped in mid-sentence, a look of shock and horror on his face. He slowly removed the earpiece. "The connection was just broken," he said solemnly. "But I heard automatic weapons fire right before it did."

"Damn!" John swore. Behind him, one of the windows rattled as an invisible blast of air hit it. He closed his eyes for a minute and concentrated on not using his talent. The effort was about as successful as trying not to think of the pink elephant in the corner, but it would have to do.

Opening his eyes, he turned back to Carson and gestured toward the radio. "I'm going to try to get to the gate room, and I'll need that to contact any of my men that weren't affected by the explosion. What I need for you to do is get to the infirmary as quickly as possible and scope out what's going on there. Then grab a spare radio and fill me in."

"But..."

"But, nothing. The bomb we found yesterday was obviously a decoy. We were meant to find it. The only question now is what it was distracting us from."

"I don't think that's such a good idea," the physician said nervously. "I'm not exactly the master of stealth!"

John remembered Ford's report after the big storm last year. Although at the time he'd chastised the lieutenant for being so hard on the Scot, the fact remained that Carson was no soldier. "We don't have a choice. Stick to the side corridors and use your lifesigns detector before entering any rooms."

Carson reluctantly handed over the radio. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"Doc. Trust cuts both ways," John said. Then he turned and ran out of the tower room without another word.

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Carson watched as John's figure vanished in the distance. Then he pursed his lips and shook his head. Despite himself, he'd let his inner scientist get the better of him again. Hearing John say that they might not be able to rebuild a mutual sense of trust had felt like a sucker punch to the gut. He could certainly empathize with Rodney now.

All that would have to wait, though. Carson uneasily headed in the same direction John had gone. His progress was doubtless much slower than the colonel's, since he paused frequently to check for other life signs. He couldn't even imagine who the attackers might be.

He reached the main part of the city about thirty minutes later, and was even more aware of the need to be careful. He had to flatten himself against a wall several times when he heard approaching footsteps. At one point Carson caught sight of two large, scruffy-looking men wearing black leather. "Oh, bloody hell," he whispered.

Eventually he arrived at the infirmary, and his heart sank further when he saw that it was already occupied by the invaders. Carson went over the infirmary layout in his mind and tried to recall the locations of all of the secondary entrances. He knew there was one a few corridors away, but it would eventually lead him back into the main room with the armed men. The back entrance through the pharmacy probably wouldn't work for the same reason.

Suddenly the physician snapped his fingers. One floor down was the morgue, and it was only connected to the infirmary by a limited site-to-site transporter. The trick would be to use the transporter without attracting undue attention. Well, he'd figure out a way when the time came.

Absurdly, the only thing he could think of while walking to the morgue was: since when had he started snapping his fingers like Rodney?

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"May I have your attention, please. This is Weir." Elizabeth's voice coming over the citywide speakers sounded emotionless, unlike some of her previous pronouncements. "All personnel are to remain in their quarters until further notice. Infirmary personnel are the only exception. I repeat, all personnel are to remain in their quarters until further notice. The situation is under control. Weir out."

What the hell? That didn't sound like Elizabeth at all. More like a robot, John thought as he ghosted through the halls of Atlantis. He could only conclude that the control room was compromised. He would need to arm himself and get his own lifesigns detector before heading there.

John had to admit that whoever was commanding the invading force was shrewd. He or she hadn't allowed Elizabeth to explain why everyone was confined to quarters. If no one knew about an armed takeover, no one would get any heroic ideas about stopping it. Unfortunately, it also meant that John was much less likely to find any of his men.

After a moment's thought, he changed direction, taking a little-used corridor towards his office. There was a spare lifesigns detector in one of his desk drawers, and he also stored a taser for times when a nonlethal option was needed. With these, he should be able to overpower one of the invaders and take his weapons. He'd rather have live ammunition, but this was as good as it was going to get for now.

Evading pursuit on the way to his destination was child's play. Whoever these guys were, they were most definitely not professionals. It ruled out familiar enemies like the Genii, and Elizabeth was way too calm for it to be the Wraith.

John tried one more time to make contact. Lorne and Stackhouse didn't answer, so he even went so far as to try to raise Bates. Then he realized he'd temporarily forgotten about the scientists. Although he told himself he should be hoping that McKay was out of danger, he instead hoped that Rodney was in the control room with Elizabeth. The physicist had proven to be one of the few men John would trust with her life.

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Carson didn't think that anyone had noticed him enter the morgue. Maybe he was getting better at sneaking around. Thankfully, most of the autopsy tables were uninhabited, so to speak. Only the unfortunate Dr. Burns, who'd fallen and broken her neck offworld, was on a slab. It looked like Dr. Biro had been here recently, though, since spare shrouds were piled on the counter and her equipment was soaking in disinfectant in the sink.

He walked slowly to the transporter on the other side of the room and was about to press the signal button when a small panel next to the doors lit up. Carson jumped a little, then realized it was only indicating transporter activity on the other side. The realization of what that meant occurred mere seconds later.

The physician looked around a bit frantically. He didn't want to risk being seen leaving the morgue, so he needed a place to hide. He couldn't quite suppress a shudder as he took the only option open to him.

Carson lunged forward and grabbed one of the shrouds from the counter, offering up a brief prayer of thanks that the thing was clean. Before he could think too hard about it, he hopped up on one of the empty tables and covered himself with the cloth, just as the transporter doors started to open. The physician willed himself to remain completely still and didn't even dare to breathe too deeply.

Heavy footsteps reverberated through the room and Carson heard clinking noises as someone apparently began investigating Biro's autopsy tools. "What is this place?" asked a rough male voice.

"Idiot! It's where they keep dead people."

"Oh," the first voice said, somewhat nervously. Then, "It sure is cold in here." Carson couldn't agree more. He had the added disadvantage of not having the luxury of shivering!

The second man obviously held the same opinion of his companion's intelligence as the physician did. "If it wasn't cold, you'd be moaning about the smell. For God's sake, you're acting like you've never seen a dead body before! What, do you think one's going to suddenly come to life and go after you?"

"Of course not," Thug #1 said defensively. "What the hell are we doing down here, anyway?"

In a tone of voice that people often reserved for small children (and Rodney McKay reserved for everyone), the other man said, "We're trying to find more of the incredible Lantean drugs we heard about."

"I know that! I'm not a complete moron." A faint snort could be heard. "Oh, never mind. I just want to try some of that stuff they call more-feen."

Carson fought to keep still. Pegasus galaxy drug dealers were likely to be even nastier than their Earth-based counterparts, living as they did under the shadow of the Wraith. He hoped his staff would have the sense to give them what they wanted. No medication was worth dying for.

He had a sinking feeling, though, that someone would want to play hero. This was born out by the invaders' next words. "The people upstairs didn't look like they were going to cooperate."

"Don't worry. After we make an example of someone, they'll behave."

Despite himself, Carson gave the tiniest of gasps, then winced. "What the hell was that?" snapped the nervous thug. To the physician's horror, the next thing he heard was the unmistakable sound of a round being chambered in a gun.

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John hid in an alcove across from one of the entrances to the control room. From his vantage point, he could see Elizabeth in her office. His view of the gateroom floor was obstructed, but from what he could see, the explosion had been bad. One of the walls next to the gate was charred, and the air still held a faint haze of smoke.

He heard footsteps and pressed himself further back in the alcove. Two men who looked like extras from The Road Warrior pushed Major Lorne ahead of them at gunpoint. Lorne looked like he had put up a bit of a fight; he was sporting a black eye and a host of other assorted bruises. Both of the goons also looked slightly the worse for wear, and John grinned.

As the trio entered the control room, one of the guards called out, "We have the military officer!"

"Good," drawled a familiar voice. "I've been wanting to see him again… wait a minute. That's not Sheppard, you fool!" The speaker was in Elizabeth's office, his back to John.

The pilot froze. Who were these people, and how did they know him?

The speaker took a long drag on what looked like a cigar and blew the smoke in Elizabeth's direction. She wrinkled her nose and glared at him, and he leered back. Then he called out, "By all means, don't let me stop you from going to find the real Colonel Sheppard." Snarling, the two guards pushed Lorne to the side and left.

At that moment, John got a good look at the leader as the man turned to flick ash from his cigar. It was someone he never thought he'd see again.

Torrell, the convict from Olesia.


	12. Chapter 12

John's first thought was that he really should have tried to kill the son-of-a-bitch back on that island. Never mind that they had been outnumbered and outgunned, he still should have given it a shot. He needed to do a better job of tying up loose ends -- first Kolya and now Torrell had come back to haunt him.

The Olesian gestured, and another of the ubiquitous goons shoved Lorne into Elizabeth's office. Torrell looked Lorne up and down, then sighed with mock regret. "Tough time finding good recruits, eh?"

Lorne bristled. "Easy, Major," said Elizabeth. "He's just trying to push your buttons."

Torrell clapped his hands slowly. "I bow to the superior wisdom of the lovely Dr. Weir. Your knowledge of psychology is truly impressive."

"What the hell do you want?"

The Olesian turned back to Lorne. "She always this mouthy?" Not waiting for an answer, he continued, "Actually, it's another mouthy doctor I'm looking for. Is Dr. McKay still around, or did someone kill him already?"

"I don't know where Dr. McKay is," Elizabeth said coolly. "I don't require him to clear his schedule with me."

"Maybe you should, doc," Torrell said. "Misplacing scientists is a bad habit. You never know when you might need them."

"Why do you want to know?" Elizabeth asked. Any answer she might have received was cut short by one of the convicts running up the stairs from the gate room floor. He hesitated at the office door, but Torrell beckoned him in impatiently.

After a whispered exchange, Torrell glared at Elizabeth and Lorne. "Seems like some of your people weren't convinced by your "stay in your quarters" speech. Much as I'd love to continue our fascinating conversation, it'll have to wait until I break a few heads."

Once John was sure the man was gone, he risked creeping out for a better view. He swallowed hard as he got his first good look at the destruction. One of the panels covering a ventilation duct had been blown off. Obviously a second explosive device had been hidden there. Several unmoving forms lay in the rubble, some in black leather and some wearing Atlantis expedition uniforms.

Something didn't make sense, though. Even if the convicts had been working with the Cereans, which looked likely, they still couldn't have known that the gate shield was down. The Cereans themselves didn't know about their computer repairs, and wouldn't have understood if they did. Was there a mole in the city, or was this just a case of incredible dumb luck?

John snuck back to his original spot. He needed to find out what Elizabeth and Lorne knew about the situation. Unfortunately, he could hear their conversations, but wouldn't be able to talk directly to them without risking discovery. How to get their attention?

Peeking out, he saw that Elizabeth was seated at her desk and Lorne was leaning against a wall. A guard stood nearby, facing away from the colonel. John concentrated, and knocked Elizabeth's coffee mug off her desk.

Oops.

It did get their attention, though. Elizabeth jumped slightly at the unexpected sound of the crash, and Lorne stared uncomprehendingly at the shattered mess on the floor. But after a minute of interest, both settled back and ignored it. Lorne made a half-hearted effort to shove the debris into the corner with his foot.

_Oh, for crying out loud_, John thought. You'd think they would know by now that objects moving by themselves were significant! He peeked out again, saw a rock paperweight that Elizabeth kept on her desk, and shoved it into her elbow.

Now she got it. "John?" she said softly. In answer, he lifted the rock an inch above the desk and let it drop. Lorne looked startled, and John realized he hadn't seen him in "action" before.

"Did you hear what Torrell said about Rodney?" Elizabeth asked. "Tap once for 'yes' and twice for 'no'."

Tap.

"Do you know where Dr. McKay is?" demanded Lorne.

Tap tap.

"Damn," they both said simultaneously. The guard turned around and gave them a dirty look, but when he didn't see anything amiss he soon returned his attention to the gateroom floor. "We haven't been able to raise him on the radio, either," continued Elizabeth.

John thought quickly. Concentrating again, he began rapping the stone rhythmically against the desk. Tap tap tap pause, then three slow taps and another pause. He ended with three more quick taps, waited a minute, then repeated the pattern.

She looked puzzled. "I don't understand what you're trying to tell us."

_Come on, Major. You at least should be getting this_. He began to tap again. After two more repetitions, the light dawned in Lorne's eyes.

"It's Morse code!" he said. "Fast and slow taps -- he's spelling out 'SOS'."

_Good for you, Lorne._ Wincing as he felt the beginnings of a headache, John slowly and methodically tapped out "HOW MANY OF THEM?"

"Twelve, sir."

"They came through the gate about a minute after the explosion," Elizabeth added. "And they seem to have better weapons now than they did on Olesia. Our people went down pretty quickly."

What could a dozen heavily armed criminals want with Rodney? And why would they want him enough to set up an elaborate trap like this? Too many questions. "REST OF OUR MEN?" he signaled.

Lorne grimaced. "Most are probably caught in their quarters. Dawn was the worst time for them to attack. Bates may be prowling around, though. He doesn't sleep... Neither does Dr. McKay, for that matter."

There were two things he needed to do, John figured. Warn McKay to stay the hell out of sight and find Bates to kick some ass. In either order. But then he realized with some dread that he hadn't heard from Beckett yet, which probably meant that the man had run into trouble. Fine, make it three things he had to do. And with a slowly increasing pounding in his skull.

He found himself wondering if it were too late to go back through the time dilation portal.

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Lying under the shroud on the autopsy table, Carson froze and held his breath. He prayed that the trigger-happy convict would resist the urge to open fire. Fortunately, the second invader seemed to be less jumpy than his companion.

"Now what's wrong with you?"

"I know I heard something!" snapped the man who had drawn his weapon.

"There's nothing to hear. The only people here are you and me -- the only living people, that is." Carson heard footsteps and tensed in anticipation of discovery, but the steps stopped before they reached him. Then there was a rustling sound. "See? She's very, very dead."

"What about that other one over there?"

"Forget it. We're leaving. There's nothing interesting down here." A minute later, the transporter doors hissed open and the voices disappeared.

The physician continued to lie on the table for several more minutes before finally gathering up the courage to move. He slowly got to his feet and looked around the morgue. Other than Dr. Burns' body, nothing else had been disturbed. Carson pulled the sheet over her again, sighing.

Then he returned to his earlier task: trying to figure out how to get into the infirmary without being discovered. The transporter would let him out across from a supply closet; hopefully his unwanted guests would be too busy raiding the pharmacy for narcotics to notice. In any case, he didn't see that he had any other options.

Carson hit the button for the transporter. When it arrived, he stepped inside and tried to flatten himself against a side wall, even though it wouldn't hide him from anything but the most cursory of glances. When the doors opened again, he darted out and into the closet. Heart pounding, his listened for any indication that he had been spotted.

No pursuit appeared to be forthcoming, which was good. Now he needed a way to contact Colonel Sheppard and tell him about the infirmary raid. Lord only knew what else the man was having to deal with, though. Hopefully John could get through it all without his new ability melting his brain...

A scream interrupted the physician's train of thought. Horrified, he looked out of the closet to see one of the leather-clad goons twist a nurse's arm behind her back. It was Nadine Winters, fresh off the Daedalus. Carson had last seen her when she was nervously helping him run tests on John.

"Where are the rest?" the man growled. He held up a bag and vials clinked inside. "I don't believe that this is your entire drug supply!"

"Th... they're locked up!" Nadine gasped. "I don't have the key..." Her words trailed off into a yelp as her assailant shoved her arm even higher up her back. With his other hand, he aimed a wicked-looking pistol at her.

"Stop it!" cried Judy Henning. "She's telling the truth. The only people with the key to the dispensary are the head pharmacist and the Chief Medical Officer."

Carson winced at the lie. Judy had access to the dispensary, too. He appreciated what his staff was doing, but he wasn't going to let any of them sacrifice themselves for replaceable supplies. Without giving himself time to think about it, he slowly stepped out in the open, careful to keep his hands in plain sight. "Let her go," he said. "I'm the Chief Medical Officer. I have what you want; she doesn't."

The thug looked at Nadine for a minute, then eased the pressure on her arm a bit. He jerked his head at someone standing behind Carson, and the physician felt cold metal press against the back of his neck. "Start walking, doc. Nice and slow." Obeying his captor, he saw that the man dragging Nadine had fallen into step with them.

"What's this, then? I told you I was going to give you what you wanted."

"It's just a precaution," the first man said pleasantly. "To make sure you don't do anything stupid."

"I wouldn't dream of it," the Scot said sarcastically.

"Sure you would," said a new voice. "You brainy types are all the same. That's why I never believed all the crap your Dr. McKay spouted, either."

Carson looked up at the leader of the Olesian convicts. "Who the bloody hell are you? Do I know you?"

"I'm Torrell. You and I have never had the distinct pleasure of each other's company before, but I know some of your friends quite well. And you are...?"

"Not very happy to see you. Ow!" Carson glared at the man who had just rammed a gun into his lower back. "I'm Beckett. Dr. Carson Beckett."

"That's better," said Torrell. "No need to be rude. Now, don't let me stop you from giving my friends their little tour."

Carson began walking slowly toward the dispensary. It was located in the back of the infirmary. They'd changed its location after Ford held him hostage for the enzyme. Now it was further away from the main patient areas. The physician stifled a grunt as his guard jabbed him in the kidney again. "All right, already. I get the bloody point!" He knew he should probably keep his mouth shut, but Rodney was no doubt rubbing off on him.

He led them down the main corridor of the infirmary. To either side there were doors leading to various labs, the medical library, and the radiology area. The dispensary was directly adjacent to the OR suite so the surgeons could have easy access in an emergency. Carson pursed his lips and tried not to show how nervous he was as he turned the key and entered an access code to open the door. "Help yourselves," he said bitterly, standing aside to let them in.

Torrell had other ideas. "Don't go anywhere. You need to tell us what all this stuff is. And the lovely lady here will keep you from getting any ideas about lying."

Nadine whimpered. The physician sighed and gestured to Torrell to precede him inside. "Fine. Let's just get this over with." As Nadine was shoved past him, he laid a hand on her shoulder and gave it as comforting a squeeze as he could muster. She managed to give him a tentative smile in return.

"Doc!" snapped Torrell. Carson looked over to see the convict leader eying him suspiciously. "Start giving us your medical wisdom."

"Well, on the far end of the shelf over there is penicillin. It's an antibiotic... helps fight off infection. Next to that is aspirin..." Over the next half hour he led them through the contents of the entire pharmacy. Predictably, they became excited at the mention of the narcotics and sedatives, and they took as much as they could carry.

Eventually Torrell gave a dramatic sigh. "Well, boys, I think that's enough for now. We need to get back to the main objective -- Dr. McKay."

Carson's heart sank. Whatever they wanted with Rodney couldn't possibly be good. He thought furiously, trying to figure out a way to get a warning to his friend, but nothing came to mind. He was only dimly aware of being shoved out of the dispensary and back to where the rest of his staff were being held. Torrell drew two of his men aside for a whispered conversation, leaving one to cover the captives.

Judy inched her way over to him. "What happened, Carson? Are you both okay?"

"Aye, for the moment." In a low voice, he explained the plan he and John had worked out. "Hopefully Colonel Sheppard will start wondering where I am and come looking. If he's not up to his ears in his own trouble, that is."

Their discussion over, the thugs swaggered back toward the medical staff. Torrell slung a mock-friendly arm over Carson's shoulder. "What do you do when you want to lock someone up?"

The Scot was confused. "Well, there's an isolation room that can be locked; we also use it for psych..."

"Good enough. You folks will be staying in there for awhile." The Olesian shrugged. "It's either that or kill you all. They tell me that a couple of your people were getting feisty earlier. Can't have that."

The casual way in which he said that was truly terrifying. The man was psychotic -- switching from "friendly" banter to cold-blooded statements at the drop of a hat. "Well, I'd certainly prefer the former," Carson said carefully.

"Good. We understand each other, then." They stared at each other in silence for a minute, then the physician dropped his eyes. "Now, let's go." Carson looked over his shoulder at Judy, jerked his head, and started walking. The others followed as he headed to the isolation room. It would be cramped, but they should all fit.

He supposed that what happened next was almost inevitable. As the last of his staff were walking inside, two of the larger medics lunged at their captors. "Stop!" Carson yelled as they tried to relieve a convict of his weapons. With other, heavily armed, men nearby, this was a futile action. Indeed, it took mere minutes before the medics were knocked down hard.

Torrell slowly walked over to them and drew his own gun. "Bad idea. Really not a good move at all." He slowly aimed the weapon at the head of one of the men.

"Please don't," Carson found himself saying earnestly. "I know they acted like bloody fools, but I'm askin' you to spare their lives."

"Don't worry," Torrell replied, still looking at the men on the floor. "I'm not going to kill them." Moving so quickly he was almost a blur, he pivoted, aimed at Nadine, and shot her in the gut. She screamed and went down in a shower of blood. "This is a much better lesson, don't you think?"

Carson barely heard the door slide shut and lock. He knelt down next to his stricken colleague and carefully rolled her on her back. She cried out in pain, and the physician instinctively reached for a syringe of morphine before remembering that they didn't have access to anything. "Oh, God," he whispered. Nadine's wound was mortal; it looked like the bullet had hit a major blood vessel, because she was hemorrhaging massively.

"Carson?" she said faintly.

He didn't respond in words, but instead sat down and cradled her head in his lap. "I'm so sorry, love," he whispered brokenly. He gently stroked her hair until, minutes later, she stopped breathing.


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Wow, I can't believe it's been two months since I updated this thing! I'll try to write faster... :-)_

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Rodney had been hunched over a computer terminal, watching the progress of the database repair, when he felt the ground shake underneath his feet. He looked up at Zelenka. "Now that can't possibly be good." His mind, of course, went to yesterday's incident with the bomb, and he mentally cursed Bates for putting Sheppard out of commission. The colonel might have been able to tell them if he had noticed anything else suspicious.

Elizabeth hadn't been much help, for that matter. She'd backed Bates' call, and Rodney learned later that she had also agreed to Beckett's request for further "observation" and mild chemical restraint as needed. As for Carson himself -- well, Rodney usually didn't mean it when he made snide remarks about voodoo or veterinary medicine, not that he'd ever admit it. This time, though, the physician was way off base. No matter what everyone else seemed to think, the colonel wasn't the one they should have been worried about.

"Oh, God!" he exclaimed as something else occurred to him. Elizabeth sometimes went to her office in the very early hours of the morning, especially if she couldn't sleep or if she had paperwork to catch up on. With all that had happened over the past week, either or both of those factors could be in operation tonight. And if she wasn't already there, she'd now be heading in that direction. He reached up and tapped his earpiece.

"Elizabeth? Elizabeth, this is McKay. Are you receiving this?" He wasn't expecting an answer, but it was worth a shot.

"Rodney?" Radek's voice trailed off as he realized his colleague was thinking furiously.

"Give me a minute... right. Here's what we're going to do." Now that he had come to a decision, the physicist slipped back into his usual imperious mode. "You stay here and oversee the defrag. I'm going to go to Elizabeth's quarters and make sure she doesn't try to go to her office. There could still be some nasty surprises in the control room area."

"What if she has already gone?"

Rodney gave him a "don't be an idiot" look. "If she has, then I'll get her out of there!" Or try to call Carson if she had been injured, he thought to himself grimly.

"And then what?" Radek asked.

"Then I'm going to shut down 2 of the 3 naquadah generators. It'll leave the ZPM and one generator to supply essential areas, and then we won't have to guard the others."

"This is your master plan?" Radek mumbled.

"Would you just get on with it already!" Rodney snapped. He shook his head as he left the lab, knowing that Radek was probably right and this wasn't one of his more brilliant solutions. He ran through the halls, swallowing nervously as he heard the sound of gunfire. So much for the miniscule chance the explosion had been unintentional. Rodney wasn't sure what he was going to do if he got to Elizabeth's quarters and found one of the invaders already there. Visions of throwing himself in front of Kolya's gun flashed through his head.

As he rounded a corner, someone reached out of the shadows and grabbed him. "Hey! What..."

"Shut up, Mckay!" hissed Lorne's voice. Rodney wasn't sure if he should be happy to see a friendly face or annoyed at the greeting. He settled for the former.

"What the hell's going on?"

"That's what I want to know!" Lorne glared. "There's a bunch of guys in black leather running around with automatic weapons and looking for you!"

"Me?" Rodney squeaked.

"Their leader's a guy named Torrell, and he mentioned you by name."

Rodney folded his arms across his chest. "Oh, really? Doesn't that just make my day." At the major's blank look, he elaborated, "Remember the convicts on Olesia?

Lorne's eyes widened. "How'd they find out where Atlantis was?"

"Sorry, I must have fallen asleep during Mind Reading 101! How should I know?"

Despite the gravity of their situation, Lorne smirked. "But I thought you knew everything!"

Rodney muttered something under his breath about Lorne spending too much time with Colonel Sheppard. "Now, to get to a more productive topic," he continued. "I was going to check up on Elizabeth, since I couldn't reach her by radio. Anyone know if she was in the control room at the time of the explosion?"

The major reached out and grabbed Rodney's arm before he could run off. "Hang on a minute, Doc. That's the first place they'll look for you. They'll have you in under a minute."

"Contrary to what you might think, I am capable of stealth!" His voice got louder on the last word. Lorne simply raised an eyebrow, and Rodney grimaced. "Fine. But what do you expect me to do, run and hide?"

"Please. Would I do that? I'm asking you to make a strategic retreat and stay out of sight."

Rodney was quiet for about half a second. Then, "Screw semantics. You're asking me to run and hide!"

Lorne suddenly got serious. "You can do more to help by staying out of their hands. I'd rather have your brains on our side."

Rodney blustered a bit, then agreed grudgingly. "Fine," he said again. "I'll just go... somewhere."

Lorne flashed him a grin. "That's the spirit, Rodney." He quickly looked up and down the hall, then sprinted away in the direction of the armory.

"In a pig's eye," the scientist muttered.

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So far, John hadn't made progress on any of his objectives. The few of his men who had managed to sneak out of their quarters undetected hadn't seen Rodney, nobody knew where Bates was, and Carson still hadn't called in. And to top it all off, his headache was continuing to get worse.

He lingered in one of the corridors, trying to figure out what his next move should be, when a single gunshot rang out. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he realized it had come from the direction of the infirmary and began to run in that direction. He found it deserted when he got there, though, and his dread only increased. He began to search the area for any signs of where the staff had gone.

John was about to leave when he heard it. It was a scraping noise, it sounded like someone was trying to pry something open, and it was coming from the direction of one of the isolation rooms. "Hello?" he called softly as he approached the closed door.

"Oh, thank God!" a muffled brogue exclaimed. "Colonel Sheppard?"

"Right here, Carson."

"A charming fellow named Torrell locked me and my entire staff up in here. He also…" Beckett's voice broke and trailed off into nothing.

John wasted no time in getting the sealed door opened. Because of the doctor's reaction he expected the worst, but it was still a shock to see a woman's body covered with a sheet. Carson stood next to it, an expression of profound sorrow in his blue eyes. "It was Nadine Winters, one of the new nurses," he said in answer to the colonel's unspoken question. John recognized the nervous woman from his testing session, which seemed like ages ago. He sighed as he remembered wondering if she'd hold up in a crisis. They'd never find out, now.

"Do you know what they're up to?" John finally asked. So he could kick their asses definitively. He wouldn't make the same mistake again.

"Other than knowing they've set their sights on Rodney, no. Hopefully the lad has enough sense to stay out of their way if they get close to him." The colonel snorted and Carson's lips tightened. Both men knew that the likelihood of Rodney behaving sensibly was almost nil.

It had just become even more important for him to get some weapons, and John knew that simply waiting to catch one of the invaders by surprise was going to take too long. He turned to the physician, "I'm going to need you to knock one of them out for me. Do you have anything that would do it almost instantaneously?"

"Are you kidding?"

"Not a bit, Doc. We don't stand a chance unarmed, and since I don't see any of them willingly giving up their weapons…"

"It's not that simple, son!" Carson sounded agitated. "You can't just blindly shove a needle into someone and expect them to drop like a stone a minute later. You've got to get the dosage right, and if you're not careful…"

"I'm not asking you to have someone ready for surgery, just to get them into a state where I can disarm them without getting my own head blown off." John interrupted as Carson started to protest again, most likely about doing no harm. "If you don't, I'll have to do it my way, which will undoubtedly be more traumatic."

The doctor still didn't look happy, but he went over to a locked medicine cabinet without further comment. He took a syringe and drew up a small amount of clear fluid. "This is thiopental sodium," he said, sounding angry. "Intravenously, it works in about 5-10 seconds. Otherwise it might be a minute or two."

"Good enough." John didn't mention that he would probably be using his telekinetic talent as a backup. He could put pressure on someone's carotid artery without even having to get close. But he figured that Beckett was freaked out enough without knowing that the colonel could probably kill with his thoughts, too. If it weren't for the fact that it might melt his brain, he wouldn't even bother with anything else.

"If you don't mind my asking, how exactly are we going to use these?" Carson's voice held a mixture of sarcasm and apprehension. "If I'm close enough to jab him in the bloody arse, he's close enough to do some damage!"

John let out an exasperated sigh. "Don't worry," he said. "I've got the hard part. You just be ready to move when I tell you." He turned to leave, ignoring the grumbling that went on behind his back for the next several minutes.

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Obviously, Rodney had no intention of actually listening to Lorne. It was probably a good thing, too. It wasn't long before he caught a glimpse of several leather-clad thugs shoving the major towards the control room and Elizabeth's office. Lorne's poor planning had obviously gotten him captured; therefore, it would be the height of idiocy for Rodney to go along with anything else he'd suggested!

Or so Rodney kept telling himself, anyway.

The physicist decided to stick to his original idea of disabling two of the naquadah generators. He'd leave the one closest to the control room, for obvious reasons, but the one by the jumper bay and the one by the mess hall should be easy to take care of. He went to the mess hall first, easily remaining undetected. (Contrary to what Lorne thought, he was capable of stealth. Sometimes.)

The generator near the jumper bay was a trickier target, though. Unlike the mess hall, the invaders had much more reason to be lurking around the area. After the initial encounter on Olesia, they'd be salivating over the thought of obtaining the jumpers. (The morons would probably never figure out why they couldn't get them to fly, either…)

There were two entrances to the bay; Rodney approached the one closer to the science labs. The other one was too close to the armory, where there were sure to be guards stationed. The generator itself was in a little alcove that was hidden from casual view. As long as no one spotted him heading towards it, he should be okay for the amount of time it would take to do what he needed.

Peering inside the bay, the physicist saw only one leather-clad invader in the area. The man was leaning against a wall, facing away from him and looking bored. For once, Rodney was grateful for rampant stupidity. He took a deep breath, darted towards the alcove, and practically dove into it.

So far, so good. Rodney knelt down next to the generator and glanced at the readouts on its side. Satisfied, he tapped a few buttons and watched as the power levels declined. Then he reached for the handle on top and twisted it. Obligingly, the generator went completely dormant.

Unfortunately, so did the lights in the jumper bay. In his haste, Rodney had assumed that these were critical systems and hence controlled through the command center. He'd forgotten that some of the jumper bay's functions were slaved to the local generator and berated himself for his mental aberration.

"Hey! You, there!" A voice cut through Rodney's internal recriminations. The physicist swore and tried to make a run for the entrance he'd used into the bay. A bullet whizzing past his ear convinced him that this was not the best strategy.

"What the hell are you doing!" Rodney yelped. "You'll hit the jumpers! And me, too," he added quickly, just in case they got any more brilliant ideas. As he spoke, his exit was cut off by several more armed men who'd come to investigate the commotion. He sighed and slowly raised his hands in the air.

One of the men looked closely into Rodney's face, then grinned. "I think this is the 'Dr. McKay' we've been looking for." He gestured to one of his fellows, who grasped Rodney firmly by the elbow. "Come on, Doc. Our boss wants to chat with you."

"I can't wait," the physicist muttered sarcastically.

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One of the thugs stayed behind to look at the generator as the rest left with Rodney. He glanced at it with a puzzled expression on his face then poked at a couple of the buttons. Finally, frustrated at his inability to comprehend the device, he followed after the rest of the group. Nobody noticed as a red light on the side of the generator began to pulse ominously.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

"There. That wasn't so bad, was it?" John grinned smugly at Carson as their prey gave one last twitch and lay unconscious at their feet. Carson's hands shook with delayed reaction as John reached down and disarmed the thug.

"Bugger off, Colonel," snapped the physician. He gingerly recapped the needle and slipped the syringe into his pocket. "I will never watch another cloak-and-dagger flick for as long as I live." The Scot's accent was thicker than usual, further betraying his agitation.

"You did good, doc," John said. "Just like Sean Connery." Then he turned deadly serious again. John lifted the body by the shoulders and dragged it into an empty storage room. When he came out, he removed the control crystals next to the door, making a mental note to have Bates take the man into custody later.

Without warning, a wave of dizziness hit him as he was turning to leave. Carson was there almost immediately, grabbing his arm to steady him. "Colonel?" he asked in a concerned voice.

"Yeah, Carson, I know," John said tiredly. "Dizzy isn't good." Neither was the headache, he added silently.

The physician scrutinized him closely, obviously suspecting that John wasn't revealing everything. But his only response was to shake his head and sigh. (Carson seemed to do that a lot when John and Rodney were involved.) "Any trouble breathing?"

"No." Good news, for a change. And it was actually true. Of course, he hadn't had any trouble the last time, either, up until the minute he utterly collapsed. No point in mentioning that, though.

"Right, then. What's the plan now?" Carson looked like he didn't want to change the subject, but he didn't push the issue.

"Same as before. Find McKay, and kick these guys out. In that order."

"Control room?" Carson wanted to know.

"Control room." John agreed.

As they walked, John made a quick tally in his head. Eleven men had come with Torrell through the gate, and they had already taken care of one. Then they took out a two-man patrol, leaving a total of nine invaders. After that, they made it almost to their destination before hearing another noise that told them they were no longer alone in the corridor.

John motioned to Carson to stay in place while he checked things out. He pointed his gun ahead of him as he flattened himself against the wall. The sounds seemed to be coming from a side corridor about ten yards ahead of him. He approached, silently counted to five, and swung around the corner…

… to find himself aiming at a single, lab-coated scientist. He didn't know the man's name, but remembered that he had seen Zelenka yelling at him a few days earlier. John exhaled explosively. "Whoever you are, do you know that I could have killed you?"

The man blinked. "Don't you remember me, Colonel? I'm Eldon."

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Elizabeth's heart sank when one of Torrell's goons pushed Rodney ahead of him into the control room. Next to her, Lorne swore under his breath. The physicist had put up a struggle; one of his shirt sleeves was ripped and his hair looked almost as wild as John's. "Watch it!" he snarled as he was poked none too gently in the lower back. He looked as pissed as Elizabeth had ever seen him.

Torrell looked up from where he had been examining a console and grinned broadly. "Dr. McKay!" he proclaimed. "How very nice to see you again!"

Rodney adopted his classic pose – arms folded across his chest and a scowl on his face. "If it isn't my favorite armchair psychologist." He looked at Elizabeth. "We should introduce him to Kate Heightmeyer. They can psychobabble each other to death."

Torrell spread his hands apart. "You don't mean to tell me that you're still upset about the last time we met," he said mockingly.

"Oh, of course not! You threatened to kill my friends unless I performed on command. Why would I possibly be upset about that? For the record, it took six men an entire week to repair the ship that you assumed I could fix at the drop of a hat! And after that the repairs failed and left me stranded on the bottom of the ocean!"

The convict paused after Rodney stopped ranting. "You done yet?" Rodney's face turned red, but he nodded. "Good. That should make you feel better, and now we can get down to business."

Elizabeth broke into the conversation. "What, exactly, do you want here? You never got around to telling us that."

Torrell turned to Lorne. "Between the two of them yakking at you, how can you stand it? If you want a new job, just let me know." Ignoring Elizabeth, he then turned back to Rodney. "Actually, it's very simple. I just want you to fix this for me. Catch!"

The physicist jerked back in surprise as Torrell tossed a black, oval-shaped object at him. He fumbled, but managed to catch it before it hit the ground. "What the hell are you doing?" he yelped.

"Relax, doc. I'm bringing you a new puzzle to solve. It's dormant now… I think."

"Gee, you shouldn't have," Rodney snapped. "What is it supposed to do, anyway? And you think it's dormant!?"

Torrell grinned again, showing all of his teeth. "That's what you're gonna find out for me." His smile faded and he raised his gun slightly in Elizabeth's direction. "Of course, if you need a similar incentive this time…"

"I'm working, I'm working!" Rodney brought the oval to one of the sensor consoles and begin to examine it. "You know, this would have a better chance of working if I had my actual equipment from the lab. I don't normally fix things in here."

"I have faith in you, Dr. McKay. After all, you're the one always saying how brilliant you are." He chuckled as Rodney shot him an evil glare.

Elizabeth decided that she had to get back in this conversation. "Do you mean to tell me that you came up with an elaborate plan to infiltrate our allies and gain access to our city just so you could have Rodney fix something for you?" She looked at the convict leader skeptically. "There has to be more to it than that."

Torrell relit his cigar and took a long puff. "Wouldn't you like to know."

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"Eldon?" John looked with disbelief at the scientist, trying to reconcile this man with the scruffy little guy they'd brought back from Olesia. "You're kidding."

"N..no, Colonel Sheppard," Eldon stuttered. "It's me. I work in Dr. Zelenka's group."

"That's right, you nearly set him on fire the other day. I remember now." John lowered his gun but didn't reholster it. "So what'cha doing? Did you think it was time to rejoin your old partner in crime?"

Eldon turned bright red. "No! I wouldn't do that to you."

Carson put a steadying hand on the scientist's shoulder. "Relax, son. The colonel's just being… cautious."

John snorted. He'd expected Carson to say "paranoid." Then he smirked at Eldon and added, "Yeah, I'm a cautious kind of guy." He raised his eyebrows questioningly and waited.

Eldon looked glum. "I knew it was Torrell who came through the gate. I saw him in the hall as I was trying to get back to my quarters. Anyway, I wanted to help. I thought that if I could find one of Colonel Sheppard's men, I could, you know, do something."

John exchanged glances with Carson. "Well, for starters, you can tell us why you think he's so interested in talking to Rodney. The two of them didn't seem to get along very well the last time they met."

The scientist thought for a long moment. "I don't know," he finally said. "Before Torrell got sent to the island, he did a lot of trading. High-tech stuff; I don't know where he got it from. But I can't see what that has to do with Dr. McKay."

"What kind of stuff?" John asked grimly. "Weapons?" Eldon nodded. "Terrific. Black market. Did he ever come across any tech that wouldn't work?"

Eldon nodded again.

"Then he would need a scientist to help him with that," Carson said thoughtfully. "But why Rodney? I know he's good at what he does, but wouldn't it be easier to…Oh, God. It's the Ancient gene, isn't it."

"Probably," said John. "Which implies that he got a lot of intel on us since we saw him last. We never mentioned that the jumper was gene-activated. Thanks, Eldon. That's helpful."

The little man flushed again, this time with pleasure. He fell in behind them as they started to leave. "Where do you think you're going?" John demanded.

"I'm coming with you."

"Hate to break it to you, buddy, but you're not."

Eldon stood his ground. "I know how Torrell thinks better than anyone else here. You'll need that, if you really want to get rid of him."

"It couldn't hurt, Colonel," Carson said softly.

"Oh, I can think of plenty of ways it could," John muttered. But he sighed and gestured toward the scientist. "Come on, let's go. But if I tell you to get down, you do it! Clear?"

"Very."

They walked for a few minutes, then stopped in an alcove that was only one corridor away from the control room. John whispered, "I think we're only facing nine of them now. Carson got one and I took out two." In any other circumstances, he would have laughed at the expression on the physician's face.

"Before Major Lorne was captured, he killed three," Eldon offered.

"I've had better odds," the colonel admitted. "But then again, I've had worse, too." In his mind's eye, he went over the layout of the control room. The decorative beams by the ceiling over Elizabeth's office were not only esthetically pleasing; they were also good places for a sniper to hide. He knew a way up there, but it involved climbing thin ledges. Normally, he wouldn't worry about it, but today he wasn't at the top of his game.

Carson knew it, too. He eyed John uneasily as the plan was explained, but held his peace. Nevertheless, John waited until he had left the alcove and was out of sight before stopping to rub his forehead. As time passed, he was feeling worse and worse.

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The physician wasn't happy as he watched John leave. It hadn't escaped his notice that the colonel was in some pain, and the dizzy spell was quite worrisome. He hadn't said anything because of their untenable situation, but he was concerned that John might lapse into respiratory failure again. There was now an emergency intubation kit and defibrillator in the jumper bay, due to the number of times Sheppard's team came in at death's door, but he could never make it there undetected. He would just have to trust that John knew what he was doing, trust being something that he hadn't done much of, lately.

Time to get back in the habit.


	15. Chapter 15

"I'm telling you – this piece of junk will never work! Face it, you got totally screwed by whoever sold this to you."

"Rodney!" Elizabeth snapped. He was starting to drive her crazy. (A small part of her mind wondered: "Just starting?") For the past twenty minutes, he had alternated between haranguing the inanimate object in front of him and flinging the occasional smart-ass remark at Torrell. The convict leader had at first observed all of this with faint amusement, but now he was becoming impatient.

"I think you're stalling, Dr. McKay. It's small and has no moving parts – fixing it shouldn't be this difficult."

"Yes, well, shows how much you know… wait… got it!" Rodney stepped back and looked smugly at the black oval, which lit up and hovered about an inch over his hand. He folded his arms and waited for the device to do whatever it was supposed to do. However, the oval seemed quite content simply to float and blink. Rodney turned to look accusingly at Torrell. "What the hell is this?"

Torrell shrugged. "Who knows? I don't particularly care, actually." Rodney looked like he was about to have an apoplectic fit, and several of the thugs inched away from him surreptitiously. "No, what's really important is that you once again demonstrated your ability to repair Ancestor technology under, shall we say, stressful conditions. I have associates who are willing to pay very well for that, and now they have proof." He held up a small recording device which had heretofore been unnoticed.

At a nod from their leader, the two men who had previously shrank away from the physicist approached and seized his arms. Rodney yelped as one of them applied a hammerlock, bending his left arm backward and shoving his hand towards his neck. "OW! That hurts! You're breaking my arm! STOP!!"

Elizabeth and Lorne simultaneously moved to help Rodney, but froze when Torrell swung around to point his weapon at them. His voice almost a whisper, he simply said, "I wouldn't."

Seeing no further opposition, the convict leader looked over at one of his men by the main console. "Get us out of here," he ordered. The man nodded and began to dial.

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Radek was worried. Rodney had not returned, and it had been some time since Dr. Weir's pronouncement on the city-wide speakers. He still had no idea what had transpired, despite her assertion that the situation was "under control." Even worse, they still had some time before the computer system would be fully operational again.

And until that happened, they were – how did the Americans say it – sitting ducks for the Wraith or anyone else who wanted to cause trouble.

Radek glanced at the screen in front of him and pushed his glasses further up on his nose. The database repair was 75 percent complete He tapped a few keys. Maybe they could judiciously begin to initialize a few key functions now that most of the Ancient data was safe from erasure.

"Dr. Stephens!" he called. "May I speak to you for a minute?"

The woman whom Rodney had been berating earlier in the evening walked over. "Yes, Dr. Zelenka?"

"Despite Dr. McKay's less-than-flattering assessment a few hours ago, I know that you have very good knowledge of the system here. If we isolated the circuits, would it be possible to bring the gate shield back on-line even though the repairs are not done yet?"

She colored slightly at the reminder of Rodney's tongue-lashing. "Yes," she finally said after a few minutes of scanning lines of code on the screen in front of her. "I wouldn't do anything else, but this we should be able to manage."

They worked in silence for a few more minutes, then Radek nodded in satisfaction. He smiled warmly at Dr. Stephens as she turned to leave. "Try not to get too upset over what McKay says. Even I am not exempt from his criticism, but I tend to ignore most of what comes out of his mouth."

Her answering smile was small but genuine.

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"We've bloody well got to do something!" Carson hissed frantically. He and Eldon watched from their hiding place near one of the control room entrances as Torrell's henchman began his dialing sequence.

"Colonel Sheppard won't have had time to get into position yet," Eldon said. "We need to give him a few more minutes."

"In a few more minutes, they'll be gone through the gate and we'll never be able to track them!" The physician twisted his neck, trying to see if Sheppard was visible on the support beam yet.

"Quit it!" Eldon whispered. "Do you want them to see us?"

Surprised at his assertiveness, Carson looked at the other man for a long moment. "You know what? I think I do," the physician finally said. If nothing else, he could buy some time by providing a distraction. Before Eldon could stop him, Carson had jumped to his feet and walked onto the balcony overlooking the gate room floor. He didn't have to feign anger as he confronted the guard standing there. "Yer not going to get away with killing one of my nurses," he growled, shoving his finger into the surprised thug's chest.

"Aren't you the one we locked…?" The guard's voice trailed off. "Torrell!" he snapped. Behind him, Carson heard Eldon groan.

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John also wanted to groan. He had climbed onto the beam in time to see the physician reveal himself, but wasn't in position to take the shot he wanted. They had planned for a diversion so that the colonel could shoot Torrell, but Carson had jumped the gun, so to speak. What had he been thinking?!

Rodney seemed to be wondering the same thing. He stared at his friend in disbelief. "What are you, some kind of moron? Too many haggis rotted your brain? Staying hidden would have been a good thing!"

John couldn't hear Carson's response, but he had no such problem with Torrell's. "Dr. Beckett! I can't say I'm pleased to see you again, but I'm also not surprised. Come to see your staff avenged?"

Even from a distance, John could see the dangerous shade of red the physician was turning. His voice was deceptively calm, though. "What I'd like is to see you rot in a cell for the rest of your life, but I'll settle for you letting my friend go."

Torrell snickered. "Oh, okay. Because you asked so nicely." Then his smile faded. "You've got to be kidding. Just be happy I haven't had any requests for a tame medical man."

By this time, John had angled himself into position so that he had the best possible view of the gate room below. Unfortunately, he didn't see any way he could get a clear shot at Torrell without an unacceptably high chance of hitting Rodney. He waited, finger tightening on the trigger, knowing that his window of opportunity could come at any moment and was likely to be exceedingly short.

Torrell looked over at the man trying to dial the gate. "What the hell is taking you so long?" he snarled. In response, the wormhole established itself with a _whoosh_. The convict leader then turned to the Atlantean command staff and saluted them mockingly. "Nice to see you folks, but I wouldn't want to wear out my welcome. Let's go, boys."

Rodney's captors shoved him towards the open gate. He looked terrified. Elizabeth, Major Lorne, John, and Carson could only watch as they came closer and closer to losing their friend.

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Now Eldon knew how Carson had felt. He, too, was having trouble just sitting there and watching his former leader wreak havoc. The physician's actions seemed to be serving as a good delaying tactic – should he do something similar? Suddenly, the decision was taken out of his hands.

As he crouched and peered into the gateroom, Eldon abruptly became aware of cold metal being pressed to the back of his neck. "Move, and I'll kill you," rasped a voice that he vaguely recognized.

"Okay." He heard a slight quaver in his own voice, and cursed himself for it. Torrell and the rest of his former compatriots would ruthlessly squash any sign of weakness. His only hope of staying alive long enough for Sheppard to act was to brazen it out. Bravado, even false bravado, was paramount.

Eldon remained motionless as a hand briskly patted him down for weapons. Apparently satisfied that his captive couldn't offer any effective resistance, his assailant dragged him to his feet. "Now, start walking. Nice and slow. I'm sure Torrell will want to say hello to you before we leave."

He obeyed, mind working furiously. This time, it was his turn to hear the physician groan as he was pushed into the gate room. "Ach, Eldon. Not you, too!"

Eldon just shrugged. There wasn't much he could say to that.

Torrell motioned to the thugs dragging Rodney, and they paused in front of the gate. "Well, well, well," Torrell said softly. "I'm surprised they let a weasel like you stay here, given your talent for betrayal." He drew his weapon and pointed it at the scientist.

Stung, Eldon snapped back, "I didn't betray you!"

"No? You were going to hitch a ride with these guys and leave the rest of us to rot on the island. What else would you call it?" Torrell shook his head. "I suppose I should thank you, though, since it got us to where we are now. Maybe I won't kill you, then."

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Radek typed furiously on his keyboard. Raising the shield was turning out to be harder than he thought. "_Začiná mi to lízt na mozek_," he snarled under his breath as yet another error message flashed on his screen.

"We all are," said Stephens sympathetically, and Radek realized with a start that she understood Czech. She grinned when he looked up at her, and he colored slightly. "I think this might help," she added as she handed him a printout. On it was a short program she had written to bypass some of the difficulties they'd been experiencing.

His eyes gleamed as he read it. "Yes!" Radek made a few modifications of his own, then entered the program. The screen flashed a few times, then settled down. "Got it! Shield is up."

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Nobody in the gate room moved as Torrell continued to aim his weapon at Eldon. No one, including John, wanted to be responsible for spooking the convict leader. Finally Torrell shrugged, breaking the tableau. "Waste of a bullet," he said derisively. He turned his back on the scientist and gestured toward the two men holding Rodney. "Now we're going."

Just as they were about to step into the wormhole, the shield spontaneously activated. "Oh, thank God!" exclaimed Carson, with a look of relief on his face.

Torrell, on the other hand, didn't look happy at all. "What the hell is this?" he demanded.

"It's our gate shield," Rodney said smugly. "No one gets in, no one gets out."

"Lower it." When Rodney didn't respond, one of the men holding him jammed his left arm up again. The physicist gritted his teeth but didn't cry out this time. Torrell stepped forward and pressed the barrel of his gun against Rodney's head. "Lower it," he repeated.

A variety of emotions passed over Elizabeth's face. She hesitated and bit her lip. Torrell smiled, a small smile that was somehow scarier than a display of anger. "Dr. Weir," he said pleasantly. "I really don't want to hurt Dr. McKay, since we're buddies and all. But I will if I have to. For the last time, get that shield down."

Lorne looked at Elizabeth questioningly. She sighed and nodded at him. The major stepped over to the console and entered his code. The shield rippled and died. "I'm sorry," Elizabeth whispered.

In desperation, John sighted down the barrel of his own gun. There was still a chance of hitting Rodney, but if he let the convicts take him through the gate, they might never see him again. Due to the way Torrell was standing, Rodney was unlikely to take a lethal wound, and if worse came to worst, Carson was already on the scene. Shooting some of the lights would add to the confusion, during which Lorne and Eldon could jump into the fray. It was a lousy plan, but it was all he had.

John's finger was tightening on the trigger when he suddenly saw an alternative. Lorne had a much better angle on the target. One of Rodney's captors had his back to the major, and the man didn't have a free hand to grab the pistol from his waist holster. Everyone's attention was focused on the gate, so John closed his eyes and visualized his objective. When he opened them again, the pistol flew out of the holster and smacked Lorne in the arm.

Oops. His aim was definitely a little off.

Startled, Lorne looked down to see what hit him. He stared at the gun for several seconds, then realization dawned on his face. He bent down to pick up the weapon, and as he was straightening up again he surreptitiously scanned the ceiling of the gateroom. He gave a subtle nod when he saw John, but otherwise didn't show any sign of recognition. Then, in one smooth motion, Lorne sighted along the barrel of his gun, aimed, and pulled the trigger.

It was a perfect shot, and all hell broke loose.

The thug holding on to Rodney's right arm dropped like a stone. In the next instant, the physicist wrenched his left arm free from the other man and hit the floor. The second shot was John's, and it took out the man who'd dragged Eldon into the gateroom. Lorne killed another one as he was drawing a bead on John. At that point, two of the three remaining invaders decided to cut their losses and dove through the gate.

That just left Torrell.

The convict leader had taken refuge behind a large piece of debris from the explosion, and he'd dragged Rodney along with him.. As he watched, Torrell stuck his head up and squeezed off a shot at Lorne. Then he stood up and held Rodney in front of him as a human shield, invoking unpleasant memories of Kolya doing the same to Dr. Weir. "Unless you want me to kill Dr. McKay, you're going to let us leave!" Torrell yelled.

John really didn't want to use his talent again. His vision was beginning to blur around the edges and the pain in his skull was starting to resemble the Anvil Chorus from an opera an ex-girlfriend had forced him to sit through. Nevertheless, he focused on picturing Torrell's head and neck. He slowly applied pressure on the place where he thought the carotid artery should be. (He'd have to pay more attention to the physician's ministrations the next time he was in Carson's clutches.)

At first, Torrell didn't react. He continued to advance toward the open wormhole. But as John increased his pressure, the convict leader stopped, staggered, and then finally dropped to the floor. Rodney looked down in disbelief, then started to scan the room as he realized what was probably responsible for his unexpected deliverance.

Part of John was itching to further push on the blood supply to Torrell's brain. A few more seconds, and the man would never pose a problem again. But then he saw Elizabeth's worried look join Rodney's and thought of the fear and mistrust that had already been kindled by his telekinetic talent. John sighed and eased up on the pressure he was applying.

Killing in cold blood with his mind would surely damage the relationships he had with his friends beyond the point of no return.

TBC

_Začiná mi to lízt na mozek: __ I'm losing my goddamn mind_


	16. Chapter 16

"Major!" John called down from his high perch. "Secure Torrell in the brig, then contact Bates and do a thorough sweep. We don't want any more surprises."

"Understood, sir!"

The room spun alarmingly as he tried to climb down from his perch. John stopped to let his vision clear, then tried again. This time was a little better, but his legs were wobbly, his head pounded, and one side of his face was starting to go numb. He shuffled toward the stairs to the gate room floor, ignoring the worried glances that he knew were being aimed in his direction. He put one hand on the wall to steady himself and kept his eyes on his feet, hoping he wouldn't stumble.

Red droplets suddenly started to appear near his shoes, and it took John a minute to realize they were blood. He shakily put a hand to his nose, and it came away stained with red. Oh, he was definitely screwed.

Carson took one look at John when he reached the main level, and proceeded to shove him into a chair. The physician's face turned increasingly pale as he assessed his patient. He took out his penlight and shined it into the colonel's eyes before he could protest. "Sluggish pupillary responses," he muttered to himself darkly as John winced. Then he turned to someone outside John's field of vision. "I need to get him to the infirmary right now."

That snapped John out of the daze he was beginning to slide into. "No!"

Carson turned back and dropped into a crouch in front of the colonel. "John, this is very serious. I need you to trust me now. Remember what I told you earlier about brainstem herniation? You're showing some of the early signs. If we don't get it under control very quickly..."

"No," John said again, more quietly this time. "Until I'm sure every last one of those bastards is either dead or out of the city, I'm not going with you."

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Rodney listened to the argument with only half his attention. The colonel was being his usual idiotically stoic self, but for once Rodney didn't have the inclination to rant at the sheer stupidity. His arm was aching and the shock of almost being abducted was starting to sink in. (Besides, Carson seemed to have the Sheppard-scolding well in hand.)

Lorne walked over to where he was sitting. "You all right, Dr. McKay?"

"Do I look all right?" Rodney snapped back.

Lorne grinned. "You certainly sound all right." Then, smile fading, he asked, "Are you up to going out on a patrol? I need all the gene-carriers I can get to operate the life-signs detectors so we can find any remaining bad guys."

Rodney scowled. "Zelenka and company got the shield up and running. Can't they get the main sensors up, too?"

"I just called down there to ask," said Lorne.

"And? What did those incompetents tell you?"

"Dr. Z. said something very fast and evil-sounding. Then he hung up on me."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Figures. I guess the shield was their one brilliant accomplishment for the day." He sighed and got to his feet, wincing as both his left arm and shoulder made their displeasure known. "Give me a life-signs detector and let's get this over with."

The major handed him the scanner and they walked over to where Carson was talking quietly to Elizabeth. John was sitting next to them, looking like death warmed over. Lorne hesitated, obviously wanting to stay to help his commanding officer, but he finally nodded at Elizabeth. "If you have no objection, ma'am, we're going to get started with our sweep."

"Do what you have to, Major. Keep me posted."

Rodney tuned them out as he caught sight of a peculiar reading on the scanner. "Huh," he muttered. "This is odd."

Lorne overheard him. "What's odd? Odd isn't good."

Rodney felt the blood drain from his face as he saw where the reading was coming from. "Oh, no." He looked up to meet Lorne's gaze. "No, it really isn't good. Especially since it seems to be coming from the naquadah generator in the jumper bay."

"Didn't you disable that?" Lorne asked.

"Of course I did!" the physicist snapped. "Hence my statement that this is odd and not good!" He hit a few buttons on the scanner and watched the reading change. "It's heading towards overload. Why the hell is it doing that?!"

"And you can't use the computer to shut it down," Elizabeth said as she realized where this was going.

"No." Rodney said grimly. "We'll have to try to shut it down manually." He jogged quickly toward the door, Lorne following, but a voice stopped them.

"Wait," John rasped. "I'm coming, too." As everyone stared at him, he staggered to his feet, steeling himself against the dizziness he knew was coming.

"Are you daft?" Carson exclaimed. Simultaneously, Rodney yelled, "Are you out of your mind?" It was obvious to the physicist that Carson's ability to browbeat Sheppard was woefully inadequate in this situation.

"You're not fit to walk, never mind chase after an overloading generator!" the physician continued. "You shouldn't even be here; you belong in the infirmary."

"I'm coming, too," John repeated. "You're going to need me." He was absolutely determined not to be taken out of the action. It wasn't about a misguided sense of honor or machismo, and it certainly wasn't due to the suicidal tendencies Rodney kept accusing him of, but he would not let them do this without him. He somehow knew that he would be needed.

"John!" Elizabeth said sternly. "I'm ordering you to go with Carson to the infirmary."

"Okay," he said agreeably. He pasted a smile he didn't feel onto his face. "As soon as we've fixed the problem, that's the first place I'll go."

Elizabeth definitely didn't look amused, but John didn't give her a chance to object further. "Get moving, Rodney!" he snapped in the tone of voice that usually cut through his friend's complaints.

Rodney stared at the colonel incredulously. "This is crazy," he complained, "but since when have you ever actually listened to me? Don't come crying to me if you suddenly drop dead!"

John started to roll his eyes, then thought better of it as the room tilted to the side. "If I suddenly drop dead, I promise I won't look for any sympathy," he said dryly. He put a hand on Rodney's shoulder and pushed him out the door, trying not to think about how much trouble he was going to be in when this was all over.

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They were halfway to the jumper bay when the ground shook, almost knocking them off their feet. "Holy shit!" Rodney yelped. He peered at his scanner. "This shouldn't be happening!" he hissed.

"What shouldn't be happening?" John was having a hard enough time concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other; he couldn't do that and try to follow Rodney's thought processes at the same time.

"It doesn't make any sense. The energy readings I'm picking up are increasing exponentially. In another few minutes, we won't even be able to get close to the generator." He looked uncertainly at John. "I need to..."

"Go," John interrupted, correctly figuring out that Rodney wanted to run ahead. "I'll be right behind you."

"Are you sure you..."

"Get going!" John growled.

Rodney went, running faster than the colonel thought possible. But by the time he joined him in the jumper bay, it was obvious that things had gone critical. Rodney was standing halfway across the room from the generator, which was radiating intense heat and beginning to glow white. He looked panicked, but his voice was eerily calm as he said, "We're really screwed. I mean, seriously, seriously screwed. They haven't even developed a scale to measure how sc..."

John cut him off mid-word. "Do you know what's causing it?" He was hit with a sudden wave of nausea. He closed his eyes and swallowed – throwing up at this point would be very inconvenient.

The physicist didn't even look at John. "Hello, no x-ray vision here! I can't see across the room and through a radiation field that would probably kill us if we weren't about to be blown up." He stopped and visibly tried to calm himself. "One of those troglodytic morons must have been fiddling with it. I'd commend him for his ingenuity – how he managed to set it into slow overload is beyond me – but at the moment I'd rather shoot him!"

"What are some of the things he might have done?"

"That's the point. He could have done anything! The only thing worse than a homicidal maniac is a homicidal maniac who doesn't know what he's doing."

The corner of John's mouth quirked up in a smile. "And another quote for the Rodney McKay Book of Wisdom." Then he closed his eyes and tried to visualize a naquadah generator. His headache and Rodney's increasingly frantic-sounding voice on the radio made it difficult to concentrate, but eventually he had a decent picture in his mind.

John tried to imagine it slowly powering itself down. When he opened his eyes, though, it was glowing brighter than ever. Rodney had fallen silent, realizing what the colonel was doing.

He closed his eyes and tried again, but could tell from the heat building up in the room that he was still unsuccessful. "I estimate we have about a minute left," said Rodney. His voice was dull now, as if he had resigned himself to dying.

_All right_, John thought to himself. _You have one more shot at this, so make it count. Hail Mary time!_ Once again he pictured the generator in his head, its bulky shape and knobby ends. As the temperature continued to rise, he found himself remembering his narrow escape from nuclear annihilation during the nanovirus plague.

And then he had it.

John remembered the steps he had taken to deliberately overload the generator that had detonated above the city. Then, deliberately and in great detail, he imagined himself reversing those steps. Nothing happened for a moment, and he was preparing himself for the explosion when Rodney sighed in relief. "Temperature and energy readings going down. It worked."

John opened his eyes and started to reply, but a sharp pain in his head made him gasp, instead. Unlike some of the other headaches, this one didn't subside. The pain grew until it seemed like someone was stabbing an ice pick through his skull, and his vision blurred. As Rodney watched, horrified, John fell to his knees. He suddenly found himself unable to breathe, and everything turned black.

The last thing John heard before losing consciousness was Rodney's panic-stricken shout. " CARSON!!!"

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_He didn't know where they were going until fifteen minutes before the mission. He never found out why they went. _

_He had been called to his commander's office one night and told to prepare his helicopter for an imminent departure. There were two Special Forces commandos standing in the shadows behind his CO, so he'd known that this was going to be a mission that officially didn't exist. He had a bad feeling about it immediately. _

_Once they were airborne, the commandos gave him terse instructions and didn't say anything else. The control tower hadn't been any more forthcoming. He flew as low as he dared above the dark Afghani desert, hoping to avoid detection. _

_Yeah, hope definitely did spring eternal. _

_The first impact blew one of the commandos into the rear wall of the cockpit. The man hit with a sickening crack and didn't move again. The second impact caused the craft to lurch sharply and the flight instrument panel to spark. _

_"Fuck!" he heard himself yell. "Hang on to something!" he screamed at the surviving commando. The controls were beginning to freeze up, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep the helicopter in the air. _

_"What the hell were you guys supposed to be doing?" he demanded. If they were going to go down, he wanted to at least know why. _

_"Can't say, Sheppard. Sorry." The answer didn't surprise him. _

_A third detonation rocked the craft, and the electrical systems shut down. "Hope it's worth dying for," he muttered as the ground came up to meet them. _

_o-o-o _

_The first thing he became aware of was a heavily accented voice. Then he realized he was in an incredible amount of pain. He hurt from head to toe, and even the simple act of breathing was agony. His memories were fuzzy and he didn't know where he was, so he decided to feign continued unconsciousness for as long as he could get away with it. _

_Someone else in the room barked a question, and the accented voice answered in an irritated tone. He couldn't place the language, but thought it might be an Arabic dialect. He became aware of background noises and an antiseptic smell that convinced him he was in some sort of medical facility. _

_Memory suddenly came flooding back. _

_He stiffened as he recalled the last seconds of the doomed mission, and wondered what had happened to the others in the helicopter with him. A firm hand grasped his shoulder, and he realized his movement had given him away. _

_"Ah, Captain Sheppard. I see you are back with us again." He opened his eyes to see the source of the accented voice: a burly, dark-complexioned man in a lab coat. The man smiled, "I am Dr. al-Abub. Before you ask, I will tell you that this is my hospital in Riyadh." _

_Saudi Arabia__? What the hell? The last thing he remembered, he'd been in Afghanistan! _

_"You are lucky to be alive," the doctor continued. "From what I was told, the craft they pulled you out of was completely destroyed." _

_"The others?" he croaked. _

_"Your companions were not so fortunate, I'm afraid." There was regret in the other man's dark eyes. "Do you remember what happened?" _

_It was a question to be expected, but something still felt off. He started to shake his head, but stopped when a spike of agony drove itself through his skull. Gasping, he realized he didn't even have to feign distress to avoid answering. _

_The doctor gave him a shrewd look, then shrugged. "Things may come back to you after you've had a chance to rest for a bit." The man stood up and emptied the contents of a syringe into an IV access port. _

_As he started to drift off, he heard a voice whisper, "We have all the time in the world." _

_o-o-o _

_When he woke up again, the doctor tended his wounds and tried to subtly interrogate him about the mission that had landed him there. Since he was certain these people were his captors, rather than his rescuers, he gave only half-truths. There was no point in denying he was military, so he answered to his rank, but he initially pretended not to remember anything at all before waking up in the hospital. Later, he claimed that some memories were returning, but nothing about the mission he'd been flying. _

_The doctor was not the only one to question him. Others, less concerned for his welfare, also came to his bedside to demand answers, but he gave away nothing. He tried to ignore the growing anger in their eyes as the sessions continued. _

_Eventually his wounds healed, and they gave up any pretense of wanting to help him. The doctor gave him an injection of something, and he woke in a dark prison cell. They left him there for what seemed like days without food or water, then beat him when he fainted from hunger. All of the blows landed where they would do the most damage, so he knew they must be checking out his medical file. _

_Still he told them nothing. _

_The doctor came in a few more times, probably to make sure he didn't die before they wanted him to. He didn't trust the man, even when his ministrations temporarily made him feel better. Eventually, his body began to fail him. He grew weaker and weaker until he could barely even breathe. Coughing and choking seemed to be all he was capable of doing. _

_Coughing and choking... _

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The first thing John became aware of when he returned to consciousness was that he couldn't breathe. He coughed and choked, gagging on something that seemed to be stuck in the back of his throat. He reached to pull out the offending object, but his wrists were tied to the rails of the bed. Next to him, a machine emitted a shrill tone.

The noise brought running footsteps and the sound of a heavily accented voice. He tensed, wondering if he was back in the Arab prison. But no, this voice had a Scottish accent, and the eyes of the doctor it belonged to were a brilliant blue. "Relax, Colonel," the man said soothingly. "You're still on the ventilator. Hang on a wee bit, and we'll get that tube out."

Carson. John suddenly remembered that the physician's name was Carson. And with that, the rest of his memories came crashing back.

With an effort, John forced himself to calm down and stop struggling. He timed his own breaths so that they coincided with the ones the machine triggered, and the choking sensation diminished almost immediately. "Better." Gentle fingers pulled away the tape that was keeping the tube in place. "On the count of three, I want you to blow out as hard as you can. One... two... three."

His body jerked and he started coughing uncontrollably as the tube was removed, but he knew from previous experience that this was normal for him. He lay there quietly as Carson took off the wrist restraints and placed an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. "Wait!" John said as the physician started to walk away. "What happened?"

Carson gave him the same shrewd look that the Arab doctor had, all those years ago. "Increased pressure in your head caused a foramen magnum herniation. In a nutshell: your brains were trying to squeeze through a small hole in your skull that's only meant for the spinal cord." The Scot looked away for a minute, and when he looked back John was shocked to see the profound sadness and exhaustion written on his face. "In all of the time I've been your physician, this is the closest I've come to losing you," Carson said bitterly. "Your heart stopped twice on the way to the infirmary. The worst thing, though, is knowing that some of this might have been avoided if the two of us stopped being such stubborn arses and actually started trusting each other."

The physician started to say something else, but stopped when his voice choked up. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving John to stare after him, stunned.

TBC


	17. Chapter 17

John fell asleep again soon after Carson left, and woke to find Rodney sitting at his bedside. The physicist had a laptop balanced on his knees. He was typing with one hand and munching on a powerbar with the other. It was such a typical Rodney thing to do that John had to smile.

A minute later, he wished he hadn't. Even the slightest movement caused a throbbing to start behind his eyes. "Owww..." he mumbled.

Rodney looked over at him. "Good morning, sunshine. Welcome back to reality... such that it is, anyway."

"So," John said conversationally, "how much trouble am I in?"

"Probably not as much as you think. Elizabeth was pretty pissed at you for awhile, but even she had to admit that not being a radioactive cinder in the ground is a good thing."

John grinned again, and winced. "Jeez! Even the slightest movement hurts!"

The corners of Rodney's mouth turned down. "Yes, well, that's what happens when you have brain surgery."

"What?!"

"Carson and his crack surgical team drilled a few holes in your skull to let the evil spirits out." Rodney shuddered. "I heard that Dr. Biro wanted to get in on the fun, too, even though you weren't dead."

"Ahem," said a female voice. With a guilty look on his face, Rodney turned to see the woman in question standing behind him. "Dr. McKay, are you disturbing my patient? Wait, don't bother answering that."

"Oh, ha ha." Rodney didn't look the slightest bit amused.

Dr. Biro ignored him and addressed the colonel. "What Dr. McKay was trying to say, in his uniquely annoying manner, was that overuse of your newfound talent finally did what we thought it was going to do. We had to lower the pressure in your head emergently, and that required drilling three burr-holes. There were no evil spirits involved." She glared at Rodney. "Except maybe the one sitting next to you."

Rodney closed his laptop and stood up. "All right, that's it. Sorry, Sheppard, but I'm abandoning you to the tender mercies of Dr. Destructo here. I'm not going to stay to be insulted anymore." He rolled his eyes and stomped out of the infirmary.

Dr. Biro watched him go with a faint smile on her face. John could swear he heard her say "I love doing that!" under her breath. Then, all business, she turned to him. "Now, how are you feeling, Colonel?"

"I've been better," he admitted. "But, all things considered, it beats the alternative."

"That it does," she agreed. She took out her stethoscope and helped John roll over on his side so she could listen to his lungs. If he thought moving his head hurt, actually rolling over was agony. He said as much, and Biro nodded. "That's probably to be expected. You should sleep now. Despite your not being a Wraith, you took at least ten years off Dr. Beckett's life, so I'll be on duty while he crashes."

"You're in the duty rotation?" The words were out of John's mouth before he could stop himself.

For the first time since he'd met her, Biro grinned broadly. "I actually have certification in family practice, too. But don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain, after all."

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One Week Later

John sat on the side of an exam table and swung his legs back and forth. He was fully clothed in sweats and a t-shirt instead of infirmary scrubs, and he was eagerly waiting for someone to bring him his discharge instructions. Everyone had been surprised at how quickly he'd bounced back; they'd expected him to need at least another week as an inpatient.

He'd had an almost constant stream of visitors. Teyla and Ronon were among the first, apologizing for not fighting alongside him. They'd been ambushed and knocked out early on, as had Bates. John would have rolled his eyes if he didn't know it would hurt so much, and he solemnly assured them that he wouldn't count it against them in their annual evaluations. Ronon shook his head and snorted, and Teyla gave him a serene look which could mean anything from "Thank you" to "Oh, God, I can't believe I have to put up with this man."

Elizabeth also came to sit with him. It had been quite awkward at first – he didn't know what to say that wouldn't sound defensive, whiny, or arrogant. But in the end, it turned out that Rodney was right. She really wasn't that angry.

One person who was conspicuously absent was Carson. Dr. Biro was the one who managed his recovery. When John asked about it, he was told at first that the physician's exhaustion had led to his staff forcing him to take a few days off. Then they told him that an issue from Earth was causing him to closet himself in the lab at all hours.

John thought he knew the real reason, though. Carson blamed himself. He was probably second-guessing every action he'd taken since John had acquired the ability to move objects with his mind.

Dr. Biro confirmed it. She was the one who finally sprang him from the infirmary. She gave him a bottle of aspirin with instructions to take two if his head started hurting again. ("And you'd better not wait to call me in the morning.") He was to take it easy – strictly off-duty for the first week, then restricted duty as tolerated. No heavy lifting, vigorous exercise, or yelling at Rodney. (John wasn't at all sure the last one was possible.)

As he was leaving, Biro put a hand on his shoulder. "Colonel," she said softly. "I'm sure you've already figured it out, but Carson's beating himself up over this. He's convinced that if he hadn't spooked you early on, you would have been more likely to heed his advice before you collapsed." She snorted. "Of course, it doesn't seem to have occurred to him that you didn't listen because you had to disarm a bomb."

"It wasn't really a bomb," John mumbled. Then he sighed. "I know. I figured that was the reason he was avoiding me. I'll talk to him."

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John stood in front of the portable safe he kept next to his bed. He hesitated for a minute, then determinedly entered the combination. He withdrew a folder marked "Afghanistan," closed the safe again, and left his quarters.

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"John!" Elizabeth called as he walked down the hall. "Can I see you for a minute?"

They went to her office. Elizabeth looked worried as she sat down on her desk and pulled up a file on her computer. "Now that the dust has settled, I need to figure out what I'm going to put in my report to Stargate Command."

John saw the problem immediately. Everything was back to normal, except for one thing. The computer system and database were fully functional, Torrell had been left on a planet without a stargate, and even the damage to the control room had been repaired. John's new ability was responsible for most of the events, though, and how were they going to explain that?

The straight truth didn't look like such a good option. At best, they could transfer him to a post at Cheyenne Mountain, to keep an eye on him. Maybe there'd be another promotion thrown in to sweeten the deal, but it would still mean leaving Atlantis. At worst, well, he imagined that Area 51 had medical people that were more ethically challenged than Carson. If he were transferred there, he'd either have to refuse and resign, or end up as a lab rat again.

John didn't see how they could lie, though. Too many red flags would be raised. "I see what you mean," he said to Elizabeth with a wry smile. "How to break the news that your military commander is super freaky."

"This is serious, John."

"I know," he replied. "Believe me, I've thought about the potential ramifications."

"Can you still... do it?" Elizabeth still didn't appear entirely comfortable with the idea.

John nodded. "I haven't wanted to play around too much, but, yeah, I can still move things with my mind." To illustrate the point, he fluffed her hair. "So far, I haven't had any more problems."

After he'd woken up in the infirmary, they'd repeated the earlier cerebral scan. The increased brain activity was still present, but it had leveled off a bit. The medical staff weren't quite sure what that meant, except that maybe his brain was finally adapting to the new function. Biro had warned him not to push it, though, and he wasn't going to argue.

John sat back in his chair and looked at Elizabeth. Like many of his infirmary visitors, she seemed tired. She'd had her hands full over the last few days supervising the repair of the damage and worrying about him lying in a coma. "How are you holding up?" he asked.

"I'm doing all right," she said. "I won't deny that the past few weeks have been tough, and I'm still concerned about your telekinetic talent, but I'm sure we'll successfully deal with any problems that come up. After what you've gone through, some of which we put you through, I'm confident that you'll handle your new ability quite well."

John grinned. " 'With great power comes great responsibility'?"

"Something like that," Elizabeth smiled in return. "Now, as for this report, I'm thinking we should just give bare-bones detail. We'll say what you did, but not how you did it. If anyone questions it, we'll just tell them that we really don't remember all the details. After all, things were rather crazy."

"Sure, why not? Politicians do it all the time." Privately he didn't think it was going to work, but he could use the time it gained him to come up with other alternatives.

John stood up to leave. As he was walking out the door, Elizabeth stopped him, with a slightly mischievous grin. "I had no idea you were into comic books, John."

Taking a guess, he shot back, "I had no idea you were." Her grin just got broader.

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Hesitantly, John walked into the infirmary. After his extended stay, the last thing he wanted to do was come back, but he knew he had to talk to Beckett. He and Carson needed to come to some sort of understanding. Although he hated the psychobabble term, they needed closure.

It was late afternoon, and the infirmary was half-empty. A few of the beds were occupied and he waved to the people in them. He didn't see any of the doctors or nurses, though. He had decided to leave and come back later when Judy tapped him on the shoulder.

"I didn't expect to see you back here so soon, Colonel!" she said. "Is everything all right?"

John quickly reassured her that everything was fine. "I was looking for Dr. Beckett. Have you seen him?"

"He's in his office. Writing a letter to Nadine's parents," she added sadly.

"Oh." He winced. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you. We all miss her. Anyway, you can try knocking on Dr. Beckett's door. He may be done by now." Before John could lose his nerve, he walked over to the physician's office and knocked.

"Come!"

John went inside and hesitated. Now that he was here, he wasn't sure what to say. "Carson, I... um..."

Startled, Carson got up from his desk and went over to John. "Colonel, what's wrong? Son?"

John found himself unable to meet the doctor's concerned gaze. He wanted to explain, wanted to tell Carson why trust came so hard to him, but it was as if his throat had closed around the words. Finally, he just blindly shoved the Afghanistan folder at the physician. "Read it," he said, his voice sounding rough to him. "It'll give you some insight."

He couldn't bear to say any more, so he left.

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The next day dawned bright and clear. The sky and the sea were the same brilliant blue, and the sun was warm. John decided that, for once, he wasn't going to complain about his enforced rest. The sun-drenched pier on the south side of the city was just too inviting.

He told Elizabeth where he was going, which made her smile. She looked more than a little envious as she wished him a good day. John took his radio with him, although he didn't think he'd be called for anything short of another invasion. He thought about bringing his surfboard, but had to admit to himself that he didn't quite feel up to it. So he settled for stuffing a few towels and a bottle of water into a knapsack and heading off.

The southern pier was exactly as he'd imagined it would be: warm, inviting, and unoccupied. After removing his shirt, he stretched out on one of the towels, used another as a pillow, and sighed happily. Rodney always found this amusing, snarking about "sun-worshippers" and "Southern California flyboys," but John didn't care. He needed to clear his head every once in a while, so why not do it out here?

He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he first became aware of the sounds of footsteps and clanking. "Damn!" he hissed. There were always people around while he was in the infirmary, and he was really hoping not to see any today.

"Morning, Colonel!" said a cheerful brogue. John looked up to see the good doctor walk onto the pier carrying a metal box and fishing pole. He was dressed casually and wearing a ridiculous-looking floppy hat to protect himself from the sun.

"Carson." John's mouth twitched as he tried to fight a grin.

The physician gave him a mock glare and said, "Go ahead, laugh it up. I'm not the one who's going to be a lobster tonight. Though, you really should be wearing a shirt or something."

"Yes, Mother," John drawled.

"Cheeky, aren't we?" John just snorted and lay back. The sounds of the water and Carson's fishing preparations were lulling him to sleep when the physician spoke again. "I read the file you gave me," he said softly.

"Oh?" The colonel's voice held no inflection as he propped himself up on one elbow.

"Aye. How did you manage to get out of there?"

"Actually, I have no idea. After a certain point, my memory's a blank. What I was told was that one of our allies raided the place to look for weapons, but found me instead." John laughed humorlessly. "I was lucky. Since the mission officially didn't exist, no one would have come looking for me otherwise."

"Ah. Well, now I see where your distrust of the medical profession comes from," Sensing John's obvious discomfort at this line of discussion, Carson continued, "In retrospect, it's a miracle you didn't kill me when we first met!"

The levity worked; some of the tension on the colonel's face vanished. "It was a close one, Doc."

"Oh, and don't I know it!" They both chuckled.

After a brief pause, John said. "Okay, my turn now. Why were you so freaked out by all of this? You yourself told me about Cassandra Frasier, so obviously it's not the first time you've dealt with 'Jedi mind tricks'."

Carson looked a little sheepish. "I kept thinking of Teyla going out of control."

"Yeah, I guess she did go "dark side" all over our asses, didn't she..."

The physician rolled his eyes. "I think you and Ronon have watched Star Wars too many times."

John shrugged. "He wanted to know why we called him 'Chewie.' What else was I supposed to do?"

Whatever Carson was going to say was lost when a sharp tug on his line almost pulled the rod out of his hands. "Bugger!" he swore as he battled the creature on the other end The fish and the physician fought it out until, with a last, desperate lunge, the fish snapped the line and swam free. Carson was caught off guard and dropped the rod. With a sigh of disgust, he watched it drift away.

"Let me get that for you," John said with a touch of smugness. He levitated the fishing rod out of the water and sat it down next to Carson on the dock.

Carson gaped at it for a minute, then a slow smile spread across his face. "You know, that could really come in handy. Think of all the ways you could torment Rodney." His eyes gleamed.

"Hmmm," John said, intrigued. "I'll have to keep that in mind."

Ever the doctor, Carson couldn't resist asking, "How do you feel?"

John considered it. "Still a little shaky," he replied. "But this isn't really hurting my head anymore."

"Good. Hopefully that will continue to fade with time... wait a minute. You actually admitted that you're not completely fine. I think that may be a first for you."

The two men grinned at each other.

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It was a nondescript office, and the man sitting behind the desk looked like a generic civil servant. But the office was located in a facility that officially didn't exist, and the man commanded a shadowy network of covert operatives. His job consisted primarily of obtaining and analyzing intelligence from his people who were planted in various governments and classified enterprises.

They had recently infiltrated a new such enterprise: the supposedly lost city of Atlantis. Far from being imaginary, it was actually located in a distant galaxy. In what he privately thought was a stroke of genius, he'd arranged for the commander of the ship routinely supplying the city to be "converted" to their cause. Now they had regular reports of events there, one of which he was currently reading. The city's primary exploration team had managed to get themselves into trouble yet again. Their military leader, a man named Sheppard, had been stuck in a place where time passed more slowly. The rest of the team managed to rescue him, and he'd returned home apparently no worse for the wear.

'Apparently' being the key word.

According to the report, the expedition had foiled an invasion and kidnapping attempt shortly after extracting Sheppard from the time dilation field. Dr. Elizabeth Weir had written that Sheppard himself was mostly responsible for saving both the city and Dr. Rodney McKay. What she didn't write, though, was almost as interesting as what she did write. For instance, the report indicated that the colonel had shot one of the invaders while balanced on a ceiling strut. That was interesting, considering that the struts were placed in such a way that only a very experienced marksman could have carried that off. Sheppard was good, but...

There were other discrepancies, too. Dr. McKay's and Dr. Beckett's reports were very terse, but they still made Colonel Sheppard's look like a Tolstoy novel. Something was definitely going on.

Perhaps the expedition had found some new technology in the Ancient sanctuary that they were unwilling to reveal. Or maybe the time dilation field had unexpected effects on humans. Either way, this might be something they could make use of. The man picked up the phone and dialed a long string of numbers.

"Yeah. It's me. Tell Lord Ba'al that we want to investigate Colonel Sheppard more fully."

FIN

(Heh, heh, heh. Don't worry, there will eventually be a sequel...)


End file.
